Sorrow's Fall

by Helen Allan

  “Did you have to go and do that?” Jeckle asked, “we were going to tell them the whole story.”

  “I’m sorry to ruin your exaggerated account of how you captured me,” Sorrow snorted, “I tell you what, if you give me a weapon we can spar in the courtyard, and you can show them your prowess.”

  “Nah, we’re fine,” Heckle said, plucking at Jeckle’s uniform for him to step back.

  “Are you sure?” Sorrow whispered, “I mean, any time you want to violently capture me, I’d be more than willing to give you a little lesson in subduing an alien.”

  As she said this, she narrowed her eyes ominously and bared her teeth.

  “Shit on shit,” Jeckle gasped as both cadets backed out hastily, their eyes wider than usual. Sorrow’s fake evil laughter followed them as they turned tail and ran towards their cadet companions.

  “They will never live that down,” Micah sighed as he came to stand beside her.

  Sorrow shook her head.

  “They were lucky it was only me jumping through. I could have been dangerous. It isn’t smart to have children guarding a portal.”

  “Nothing had come through in years,” he frowned, considering her words, “the cadets were rostered on for two days above ground practice each month, just to acclimatise them a little to the lack of oxygen and allow them to experience the upper world. If I had known the portal was active, I would never have allowed any upper world forays.”

  “So, they are not actually guarding the portal?”

  “No,” he laughed, “they were just playing around up there experiencing life above ground. Their orders were to run if they saw anything bigger than a bug.”

  “It sounds like what we do under the sea,” Sorrow said, shaking her head, “teach our children to swim, to dive. But at least we know there are sharks around.”

  “We know there are dangerous creatures above ground,” he said, his tone serious. “But we have thousands of years of separation from that world – and we need have no fear that we will be discovered here.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sorrow frowned, “I could have squeezed those two kids, and they would have revealed anything and everything about your kind.”

  “Perhaps,” he shook his head, “but would you really have believed an underground world lay beneath the desert sands? That millions of our kind exist here day in and day out, going about our own lives?”

  “I’ve seen stranger things,” Sorrow said gently, “now, the meeting with your army leaders.”

  “I’m afraid there isn’t going to be one,” he said quietly, “they have told me you have nothing they need to hear. They are content to know that you do not appear dangerous and have left you in my charge, but they do not wish to hear what you have to say.”

  “But,” Sorrow frowned, “we need help. We don’t have the numbers…I’ve explained everything to you.”

  “Your war is not our war,” he said firmly, “If it were possible I would wish you well in your fight, or your bomb, and let you be on your way. But now you are here; you must stay.”

  “You mean, I’m your prisoner?”

  “You have been left to my discretion,” he said, “you can see it as prisoner, or as guest. I think you will be happier in the long run if you consider it the latter.”

  “I can’t stay,” Sorrow said, meeting his gaze, “I will escape.”

  “Why don’t we just say you are my guest for the time being,” he said gently, “I would like to know more about the world from which you originate. I’m sure you can spare a few weeks to learn about mine.”

  Sorrow watched his lips as he spoke, before once again meeting his eyes. They were, she decided, sensual. Perhaps given time, she would be able to convince him of the importance of her mission, change the mind of someone in power. She had a little time up her sleeve before the portals opened, Judgment would not act before then.

  “Alright, I will be your guest, for the time being.”

  “So, you are saying,” Micah laughed as they headed towards their transportation, “that knock-knock jokes are actually considered funny on Earth.”

  “No,” Sorrow groaned and shook her head, “but when I told the cadets some I never expected them to become so entranced by them. If I hear another one, I swear, I will knock-knock my head on that wall.”

  He laughed loudly, a deep, rich laugh that echoed through the small vehicle they had just entered. It was a laugh Sorrow looked forward to hearing each day since she and the captain had become friends.

  “So, this city we are heading to,” she said as she strapped on her seat belt, “what is its estimated population?”

  “About 40 million,” he said shrugging.

  “Jesus,” Sorrow frowned, “that is amazing. So, your population overall?”

  “Billions, Sorrow, who keeps count?”

  “And the city we are heading to is the capital of this ‘country’ for want of a better word?”

  “I see where you are struggling,” he frowned, “your Earth countries, according to the map you drew for me, are surrounded and separated by seas. We have no such delineation. We have rivers, yes, mountain ranges, yes, but the borders between our lands were long ago dissolved. Like I said to you earlier, our armed forces are for peacekeeping, for natural disaster response, not for war. We have had no wars between the races of our kind for thousands of years. We train in weaponry and defence and martial arts, but only as a precaution and as a skill-set that is deemed worthy of not being lost. You could, if you like, imagine our armed force is like your police force on Earth or an adjunct to such.”

  Sorrow smiled and shook her head.

  “So, despite all your regional differences and racial differences, you live in harmony?”

  “In the main. I mean there are murders, thefts; crimes that most civilisations would, I imagine, deal with – but large-scale fighting? No.”

  Sorrow shook her head. She had seen several types of Nãga since settling into the cadet training barracks a month prior; small, dark-skinned Nãga, taller pale green Nãga, and Micah and the majority of the cadets, green and gold.

  “But there are hundreds of different races,” she frowned, “how can you all live so harmoniously? On Earth, our countries still fight over land, resources, religion.”

  “We had our wars,” he shrugged, “we learned from our history. Violence, bloodshed, it does nothing to progress our kind. Diplomacy, acceptance and negotiation are key.”

  “If only my own race was as advanced as yours,” Sorrow murmured, leaning her head back against the headrest as the vehicle raced along the tracks at incredible speed, the landscape beyond a mere blur. She could see why they did not want to participate in a war above ground – even if Judgment did nuke the planet, it would have no effect on them. The knowledge helped her sleep at night, but not much, she still needed to save the others above this world who had been captured and enslaved by the gods.

  “So where will I be staying when we arrive in the city?” she asked now, turning to watch his profile as he concentrated on the track ahead.

  “With me.”

  “Do you have barracks there?”

  “No,” he laughed, “I am on leave now for one month. I will go back to my family home. You have been left in my charge; you will accompany me. Unless you are planning to escape this week,” he cast her a quick sidelong glance, but she could see his lips curve into a slight smirk.

  “Not this week,” she quipped.

  Truth be known she had not thought of escape at all in the past few weeks that she had spent with the cadets. She had found the young Nãga to be hilarious, charming, silly and fascinating – and their captain to be intriguing.

  Most days she had spent training with the cadets, teaching them hand-to-hand combat and talking to them about her world. Most evenings she spent dining with the captain and talking to him, also, about their worlds. Less and less she had focussed on the needs of the planet above, as she became settled in the world below. And of late,
she saw far fewer differences between herself and the Nãga, and far more similarities, and, loathe as she was to admit it, the captain did smell good.

  She shook her head to dispel some of the more carnal paths her mind now traversed as she considered her travelling companion. He was smart, funny, handsome in his own way, learned and strong; everything that could and would melt the young hearts of the female cadets. And Sorrow was definitely, despite her assurances to the contrary, finding she was not immune to his charms.

  Watching his bare arms now, his muscles bulging in the dim light of the vehicle, she longed to rub her hand down his forearm and feel his skin. From the brief touches she had while wrestling with the cadets, she knew their skin, although entirely covered in scales, was smooth as silk, like the stomach of a snake, or the long, cool back of a skink. She wondered, briefly, how Micah’s stomach would feel pressed against her own, and shuddered, a little buzz of excitement rippling down her spine.

  Swallowing hard, she dragged her eyes from his body and back to the track and waited to see where they would be staying. Her room in the barracks had been rudimentary at best, as all army barracks were whatever world she had been on. She was hoping for at least a few creature comforts during Micah’s holiday because she knew her time was running out and soon, all jokes aside, she would have to knock-knock her way out of this subterranean world and back onto the surface.

  If only she could shake the suspicion that she belonged here, with him.

  10

  She watched him smile, bow and accept the invitation to dance, and smirked.

  All evening Micah had been performing his royal Nãga duties, dancing with eligible young women, discussing politics with men, bowing and nodding, smiling and shaking hands. And yet he had not forgotten she was there, meeting her eyes often, giving her a cheeky grin on more than one occasion, before continuing on.

  “He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and his smell…” she heard countless times as she sat at the table to the right of the ballroom floor and watched him work the room.

  “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 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 ri
tual.”

  “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.