Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire (23 page)

‘
Demon
tree,’ the mirror whispered. ‘Crown of the tree. A pearl. A
pearl...’

‘
Demon
tree?’

‘
The
tree of life. Its image.’

‘
A pearl
from the crown? Is that what he asked for?’ Variel could not
believe his ears. Sabbalom, their neighbour, was notoriously
solitary. It required aeons of negotiation even to secure a social
visit, never mind permission to climb the image of the Tree that
hung over his lawns. Variel was not sure whether even he could
complete such a task. He sighed. Sure or not, it would have to be
done. Why? He kept on staring into the mirror. He had lived for an
age in this place before Jadalan came. Why risk danger just to keep
him here? Couldn’t life resume its old pattern now? Variel
considered. He thought about the barren days that would ensue
without Jadalan’s bright company; the absence of his humour, the
absence of his beauty. ‘I would rather travel the world of men
myself to find him,’ Variel thought. ‘My father’s house is a
wasteland without him.’ Thus a decision was made and without
further hesitation, Variel transformed himself into a spiralling
column of light-shot mist and whirled up and away towards the
demon’s garden.

Jadalan had
come close to the edge of the angel’s kingdom. Ahead of him, a
golden gate hung in the sky, flanked by winged sentinels holding
drawn swords. The gate was so vast that he felt he could touch it,
but it was some leagues off yet. Jadalan put down his bag of meagre
belongings and stared back up the road for a moment. He could no
longer see any of the shining dwellings of the angels, only a
strange, flat plain of sparkling stones. Here the dominion of Earth
crept over the threshhold and the magical stuff of angelic creation
drew back its toes in distaste. Jadalan allowed himself to shed a
few last tears of farewell. His vision was blurred by them, to the
extent that it seemed a shimmering vortex spun along the road
towards him. Jadalan blinked and the rushing spiral was still
there. He made a sound of distress and picked up his bag to run and
run. He was sure it was Lailahel coming after him and he feared for
his life. All misery was forgotten in that moment of stark desire
for survival. He began to run, but the sparkling stones of the road
had become slippery beneath his feet so it seemed that, as if in a
dream, he could not go forward at all. The rushing wind was nearly
upon him and, uttering one last despairing, defiant wail, Jadalan
fell to his knees, covering his face, letting the vortex engulf
him. But then there was no cold, furious embrace but only a sudden
stillness and a voice he knew saying, ‘Jadalan, Jadalan, get up.
Get up quickly.’ The voice was almost unrecognisable because of its
hollow ring of fear but he could tell it was Variel.

The instant
relief and joy that recognition gave him soon subsided to a more
bitter, spiteful human reaction. ‘You should not follow me,
Variel,’ Jadalan said. ‘I am returning to the land of my fathers as
Lailahel wants, and, if you were truly honest with me, you’d say
you wanted too.’

‘
Don’t
be a fool, Jadalan!’ Variel said, surprised.

‘
I won’t
return! I can’t!’

‘
I know
that. Neither can I. Look.’ Variel held out his hand and uncurled
the long, pale fingers. In his palm rested a single, enormous,
perfect pearl in which the colours of the universe shifted and
writhed. Variel looked at the light of it reflected in Jadalan’s
face.

‘
The
pearl. You took it.’ He looked at Variel. ‘Why?’

‘
I’m not
sure. It seems senseless, I know. When Sabbalom comes cursing over
the wall, Lailahel will know that it was me who took it. I’ve
exiled myself. For you. It’s senseless. I don’t know why. I thought
I could sneak in and steal it and bring you back. We could have
said you’d taken it yourself and everything would have been
alright. I must have been out of my mind. The place was crawling
with sentinels who kicked up such a cacophany when they saw me that
Sabbalom himself came out onto the lawn. He saw me and was
furious. He will know who I was. I can’t go back. You must take me
with you.’

Jadalan looked
wretched. ‘No, Variel, I can’t do that,’ he said. ‘You’d hate it
and then you would hate me. Say, I bewitched you, anything, only go
back to your father’s palace. I beg you.’ He had clenched his fists
helplessly in front of him.

‘
How
strange you are Jadalan. You don’t want me to go back at all,’
Variel said. ‘Neither am I going to.’

‘
I’m
human, you’re an angel. You’d pine for your home. Please. Go back.
Let me go.’

‘
No. I
don’t want to live here without you. I can change. I can live in
the world of men. Others have done it. I want to be with you,
Jadalan.’ He held out his arms and wrapped Jadalan in them. Then
Jadalan was lost and could not have sent Variel back for all the
freedom in the world. They clung to each other, tiny as pins on the
wide, glittering road, with the great gate of creation hanging over
them.

‘
Come,’
Variel said. ‘Lailahel will follow, I’m sure of it. We must
go.’

Jadalan kissed
him one last time and picked up his bag. Together they walked
towards the gate, swiftly, not looking back. After a few steps
Jadalan said, ‘What is that odd noise, Variel?’ He made to turn and
look behind them, but Variel hissed.

‘
No,
don’t look, don’t look! It is just a breeze passing over the
stones, nothing more.’ They increased their pace.

‘
Variel,’ Jadalan said in a low, tense voice. ‘I am filled
with fear - filled with it! What is that noise?’

Variel
clutched his arm, bringing pain. His face was almost translucent,
his eyes wide and completely black. ‘Don’t look back, don’t say
what you think it is. There are just soul birds flying above us,
that’s all. Quick! Quick!’ They were almost running. Hot air blew
the hair up on their heads and a whistling scream penetrated
through the wind; a scream of fury and potency.

‘
Variel,
it’s him! It’s Lailahel!’ Jadalan screamed, unable to keep the name
inside him any longer.

‘
Then
run! Then run! Then run!’ Variel replied, and half swooping, half
running, he dragged Jadalan along the road, which roiled like smoke
beneath them, a writhing black shadow between them and the
gate.

Jadalan felt
tears of sheer terror sting his face. He could hardly see the Gate
now and swore he could feel the hot breath of the avenging angel on
the back of his neck.

Suddenly,
Variel pulled him to a halt. ‘Keep going, Jadalan,’ he said, ‘I
shall distract Lailahel in some way. I will come to you. Keep
going.’

‘
No,’
Jadalan craoked. ‘You won’t. Lailahel will kill you. Let’s keep
going - together...’

‘
Hush,
no time for that, no time at all. Run. I love you. Run.’ And Variel
let out one shuddering gasp of breath and blew Jadalan up the
road.

Jadalan wailed
and waved his arms, calling out, until Variel disappeared into the
black smoke. His voice came faintly to Jadalan’s ears or maybe into
his mind. ‘I’ll come to you, I promise. But you’ll only know me if
nobody else touches you in love before I come. Otherwise your
memory of me will fade completely. Take care, Jadalan, and wait for
me!’

Then the black
mist enclosed Variel completely. The Gates of Creation creaked open
and Jadalan was sucked, head over heels into the world of men.

Variel stood
small and straight upon the road, facing the approach of Lailahel,
with Jadalan’s wails fading behind him. All he had as protection
was the pearl from the Tree, and his knowledge of such things was
far from all-encompassing. Lailahel appeared as a black storm, eyed
with golden orbs of anger. The raging column paused in front of
Variel, its spinning decreasing until the tall, slim form of the
angel could be seen hovering within it.’What are you doing?’ he
asked in a reasonable voice.

‘
I am
following Jadalan to the world of men,’ Variel replied. ‘You cannot
stop me Lailahel. I have made up my mind.’

Lailahel
uttered an indulgent laugh. ‘A pretty show of loyalty, dear child,
but woefully misplaced! Do you realise what will happen to you in
that place?’

‘
Nothing
worse than the emptiness I’ll feel should Jadalan go from my
life.’

‘
Such
loneliness would be a boon in comparison! Foolish child! If you
turn from our world and live upon the Earth, you will become mortal
as they are, doomed to age and die. But neither will you become one
of them. You can’t. Neither man nor woman can you be, and they will
fear you because of that. They will cast you out and pelt your body
with stones, a body that will be an abomination to them, because
they will not understand it.They will desire you and loathe you.
And as for your beloved Jadalan, well, under the light of his own
sun you will appear as a demon to him, a creature of darkness. What
is translucent and holy here in our lands will become freakish clay
beneath the sun. Follow him, Variel, and you condemn yourself to a
misery as eternal as mortal life can be.’

Variel
hesitated. Then he said, ‘You lie,’ in a small, uncertain
voice.

Lailahel
laughed.’Lie do I? In your heart you know that I do not. Come home
with me. If you desire closeness then I can give it to you, but do
not turn to mortal beings for that - ever. They will destroy you,
as they destroy all things they do not understand. And, it must be
said, he could never give you pleasure, Variel. It is beyond his
capabilities. Stay with your own kind. Come home.’

Variel still
hesitated. He stared hard at Lailahel, whose golden eyes were
impenetrable as the metal itself. ‘I shall have to see this for
myself,’ he said at last.

‘
You
won’t be able to return if everything goes black. You do know that,
don’t you?’

‘
I gave
him my word I’d follow.’

‘
They
expect us to break promises. We are angels, unpredictable and
contrary. Forget him, Variel. Come home.’

‘
In my
mind, I see the sense in your words, Lailahel, but my heart is
telling my mind to be silent. I love Jadalan. I must follow him,
for good or bad. I have no choice.’

Then Lailahel
grew in stature until the image of him filled the whole, glowing
sky. He turned the sky livid violet with his fury. ‘I will not let
you go, Variel. You are my son.’ And poisonous tendrils of
semi-solid fume snaked towards him.

Variel
screamed, unsure of what to do. He found that he had tossed the
pearl from the crown of the Tree of Life high into the air, where
it spun and spun, a single bright mote against the shadows of the
angel’s rage. The pearl contained the sum of all knowledge, a
blinding ache that burst into the air of the land of angels, a
thousand thousand sharp thrusts of light and meaning. In an
instant, Lailahel was given the vision of Variel, bound and
helpless, chained in the palace of light and the light was gone
from him. He was given the vision of himself suffering the pain of
love unrequited as Variel watched the windows for a Jadalan who
could never return. All life would be sterile should Lailahel force
Variel to return home. With a wail that equalled Jadalan’s in
despair and wretchedness, Lailahel was sucked inside the vortex of
his own ire and disappeared with an eery hiss in the direction of
the palace of light.

Variel was
left upon the road, alone. He turned around. Above him the giant
sentinels spread their wings and drew back the Gates that he should
pass. He flew towards them. They did not look at him directly.
Variel followed Jadalan into the world of men.

Jadalan
meanwhile had emerged from the realm of angels in the land of Cos
and, as fortune was with him, very close to the city of Ashbrilim,
the home of his parents. It was early morning there and Jadalan
found himself walking along a wide, dusty road with fields on
either side. He stared at the marvels of the mortal world; the
jewel colours of the trees and grasses and flowers, the impossible
hue of the morning sky as the sun rose in the east. Horses galloped
through the dew, mad with the joy of simply being alive. He walked
and walked, and, as the the hour drew on, came across other people
setting out for their day’s work in the fields, the markets, the
villages. At noon, he paused by a well to drink and a pretty girl
with green eyes and a brown dress offered him a cup of milk
instead. She took him to her cottage and fed him and then offered
him more than food or drink. ‘Kiss me,’ she said, pouting prettily.
‘I’ve never seen a lad more handsome than you.’

‘
I
can’t,’ he replied, smiling.

‘
And
why’s that? Spoken for, are you?’

‘
In a
way. I’m waiting for an angel.’

The girl
laughed good-humouredly and pestered him no more. Jadalan could
tell she thought him strange, perhaps mad. He left the village,
still heading west. By late afternoon, the spires and turrets of
Ashbrilim could be seen like a mirage in the sky. Jadalan asked an
old man scything grass by the road, ‘Is that the city of King
Ashalan?’

‘
It is,’
the old man replied.

‘
My
parents live there. I’m going home,’ Jadalan said and the man
nodded and smiled; perhaps he too saw a madness there.

Jadalan
wandered the streets of Ashbrilim, eyes wide, steps dragging with
fatigue brought on by the assault of stimuli to mind and senses. A
thousand brutish odours filled his nose, far removed from the vague
perfumes of the land of angels. Everywhere colour and noise whirled
around him, indecipherable to his alienated condition. He was
almost blind, shaking and nauseous by the time he reached the gates
of the palace. The reason for his being there was fading fast in
his memory; his body was unable to cope with the drastic
differences. Out in the country, those differences had been
pleasant, challenging, new. Here in the city, they were cruel and
overwhelming. The close proximity of thousands of human souls and
human bodies oppressed him; he could sense all their petty
cruelties and jealousies, all their dark secrets. Jadalan sank
wearily to the ground, leaning upon the closed gates. Never had he
felt so ill.