Rell and The Rose

Ch. 8, Straight on Till Morning

"Impossible," a voice finished my thought. I spun, hand again going to the missing knife at my waist.

"But we should be careful with words, as they are powerful things."

I crouched low, but the form made no move towards me, and after a moment I relaxed. He was human. I stood slowly, more curious than afraid. Not that humans weren't dangerous, but their schemes were long and complex. A beast would either attack or retreat. The danger in humans rose around you slowly until it was too late to flee.

"I've been waiting a long time to meet you, Rell." Finally the voice attached itself to the body of a man. He stepped out from the shadows and paced forward. He was dressed impeccably, yet oddly, in a fashion that I had never seen in The Dark Realm. In fact, the only comparison I could draw was to a sort of picture book called a magazine that Lorcan had claimed was from The Human Realm, with women in huge white dresses and men in strange black and white outfits with buttons down the center. Whatever it was, it suited him well. His hair was black as a raven's feather and fell to his shoulders in waves. He had a strong nose, long eyelashes framing eyes of periwinkle blue and an arrogant, slight smile.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"My dear, forgive me, but as I said words, especially names, are powerful things." He came closer, the snow curiously silent beneath his feet, and for a moment we simply surveyed each other. I guessed him to be in his late thirties, but he carried himself with an elegant, aristocratic assurance of a much older man.

"Then what do you want?"

"I think we can help each other." He took another silent step closer. His face was all angles, not quite handsome, yet undeniably striking. A face that would be impossible to forget.

"How can we help each other?" I said cautiously. The small black rock lay in the snow beside my feet, and I bent and picked it up, clutching it tightly. It would make a poor weapon, but it was better than nothing.

But he made no further move forward, instead he tilted his head up to watch the snow fall. The white flakes caught in his dark hair. "They call this place The Winter Garden... it's a sort of waiting place, between realms. And a bridge to the Human Realm."

"The Human Realm? Don't tell me you believe in the stories too." I'd hoped to lure him into giving something away, but his answering smile said he wasn't playing.

"Oh, I'd say I more than just believe it." He gave me a sly, knowing look. "And I'd say you do too. I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"Even if it could save your Queen?"

I froze beneath his gaze, but he continued as if he could see straight into my soul. "Not enough? What if it could save your realm? Your Prince?" His voice dropped, soft and silky now. "Come now, Rell. We are not so unlike you and I. We both want to save the people we love."

He turned and began to pace through the snow, and beneath my shock, I was impressed by the silent, graceful way he moved, not unlike one of the night-elves. I turned and looked over my shoulder. There was only white everywhere, and like he'd said, a strange sense of waiting. Even if I didn't want to follow him, I didn't know how to get back to The Dark Realm. I turned and followed.

We walked through the snow, and after a time, came to a beautiful garden. In it bloomed thousands of roses. I had seen moon flowers, weak, thin things, but these roses seemed to defy everything I knew about flowers, and bloomed a hungry, deep red.

He reached out as if to touch one of the petals, but then pulled back at the last moment.

"How do I save the Queen?" I challenged.

He stared at the rose. "By finding what she sought. The Blood Rose."

"Lorcan is already looking for it." And I wasn't invited.

"Yes, but he's looking in the wrong place. It's been stolen from The Dark Realm by one even more powerful than the Dark Queen herself. But, he failed to tell you what happens to someone who touches the rose selfishlessly. Anyone not of royal blood, who touches the rose selfishly are inflicted with a terrible curse. The curse of the Beast... And who better to slay a Beast than the kingdom's Beast-Slayer?"

Who indeed, I wanted to say. Instead I watched him carefully, trying to sense any sort of deception. If I was indeed searching for a Blood Rose and a Beast, why hadn't Lorcan told me so? I would have been the ideal candidate... unless he hadn't invited because— well, because I'd turned down his marriage proposal. Which brought up the real problem here: I'd always been better with beasts than people. And even though I sensed there was some sort of important detail he'd left out, I had no idea how to find it.

"So how would I find the rose?" I asked, stalling for time.

"By finding the Beast, of course."

"And what do you get out of this?"

He stepped closer, until he was so close I could smell him, an odd scent, of pine wood and salt.

"A small favor. A single petal from the rose."

A single petal? What could he want with a single petal? Did it matter? If he was right, and The Blood Rose was really in The Human Realm (assuming it was even real) then who knows how long it would take Lorcan to get there. All of these thoughts passed in an instant, because the truth was I'd already made the decision. I looked up and met his eyes, and he smiled like a fog cat that had just caught a night pixie.

He held out his hand to shake. I paused when I realized he held out his left hand. His right was buried deep in the pocket of his suit.

"The centaurs say that only thieves shake hands with their left hands, to hide what is in the right."

He smiled, "Centaurs are wise... and a bit pretentious."

It was my turn to laugh. I reached out, but at the last moment, pulled my hand back. "Before we shake, I want to add my own part of the deal."

"Indeed?" His smile was politely bemused.

"I want your name." I watched the look of slow surprise come over his face, and a darkness that he quickly hid.

Then he leaned in, so close for the first time I saw something dangerous in his eyes. "Agreed."

I reached out and took his hand. It was solid and firm— I had almost expected it to disappear into smoke.

"Then we have an accord," he declared. For a moment I thought I saw red flash in in his eyes, but it was quickly gone, and I decided it must have been a trick of the light.

"Excellent! Now, Second tree to the right, and straight on till morning." He gestured to a stone pathway that wove through the roses, that I had somehow overlooked until now. Or maybe it had not been here before.

He turned, about to disappear into the mist, when I called out, "Wait, you never told me your name!"

His eyes were playful when he turned. "And what name do you wish to claim of mine; a friend's, a lover's, or an enemy's?"

"All of them."

He laughed. "Then you are as greedy as I. A shame..." He shook his head sadly, turning and walking away. Just before he disappeared, he turned over his shoulder, "My friends call me James, and my lovers— well, you are still too young for that."

"And your enemies?"

His blue-eyes flashed once more in the darkness, and I was left only with a haunted voice. "Pray you never learn that name."

Then he was truly gone. The mist swirled higher, and I realized I was freezing. I turned and began to follow the path. I walked for so long I began to wonder if this had all been some sort of elaborate trick.

But then I saw it, burning away the mist, so bright I couldn't look at it directly, more beautiful than I'd ever imagined.

The sun.

I smiled as I remembered his words.

Straight on till morning.