by JK Ensley
Jenevier grabbed him around his spindly neck and jerked him down to his knees. “No, tree-boy,” she hissed. “I ride about on a sapphire Dragon. And, by the way, leprechauns are a myth… idiot.”
When she shoved the stranger away, Ardune burst out laughing. “That settles it. If you are the prize, my Lady, I will toss my name into the box as well. Spending eternity in Sheol won’t seem quite so drab… with a maiden full of fire at my side.”
Jenevier smiled. “I am honored, Drowl. Yet, I am no one’s prize. I cannot be owned. Such a thing is not possible.”
“Don’t look at it like I would own you,” Ardune said with a smile. “We would be best mates. You’ll see. I don’t want you for anything as vulgar as what that soul-eater wants you for.”
“Vulgar?” Jenevier snorted out a chuckle and looked sideways at Ahriman. “Did you hear that, Angel? The Drowl thinks your feelings toward me are vulgar.”
“That’s because he is a Drowl,” Ahriman casually said as he continued to watch the battle below. “They have no heart, no gender, no sex. Feel between his legs if you don’t believe me—as smooth and velvety as a rose petal.”
Ardune sort of protruded his midsection as if he were giving her permission to do that very thing.
Jenevier blanched. “Umm, no, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I must decline.”
Ahriman snorted. “Ask him, Jenevier.” He glanced sideways at her, smirking. “I know you are dying to.”
“What are you—”
“Oh, don’t act all innocent with me. Go on. Ask him.”
Jenevier nervously cleared her throat. “Umm… Ardune?”
“Yes, my Lady?”
“So… Drowls are genderless?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Ahriman elbowed her, prodding her to continue. The Drowl simply stared at her, waiting.
“Well, what I meant to say— I mean… what I was trying to ask was—”
“Just spit it out already,” Ahriman whispered.
“Stop it,” she hissed back at the Angel, elbowing him in return. “Umm… Ardune?”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said again, smiling knowingly.
“If you cannot reproduce, how do you… reproduce?”
“Real smooth,” Ahriman said through a soft chuckle.
“What I mean is…” She cleared her throat again. “Are you the only Drowl, or are there others?”
“Just look around the arena, my Lady. We are many.”
She glanced around quickly, then back to him. “Yes… And, how did you all come to be?”
“They pop out of dung heaps,” Ahriman said.
“See?” Ardune looked again to the surly Angel behind her. “I told you he was vulgar.”
“You didn’t have to tell me, Ardune.” She winked at the Drowl. “I already knew.”
Ardune smiled then. “Drowls are born in mushroom beds.”
“I told you,” Ahriman whispered.
Jenevier ignored him. “Mushroom beds? Truly?”
The Drowl nodded. “We step out fully grown, just as you see me now. We guard the royal household. King Thacius made sure there were four Drowl for every female member of his family.”
“Is that so?”
Ardune nodded again. “When you were proven worthy enough to be given charge of a Lady, you became her everything. I was my Lady’s servant, her healer, her warrior, and her best friend.”
“And without any offending parts,” Ahriman added. “The King was ensured that his daughters not only stayed safe, but that their maidenhead was intact upon their eventual marriage.”
“So… there are only boy Drowls? No girls?”
“There are no boys or girls. Only Drowl.”
“But Ahriman referred to you as him.”
“It’s just easier for the non-Drowl that way.” Ardune shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s because we don’t have breasts.”
He touched hers when he said that. Jenevier slapped his hand away.
“Apologies, my Lady. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ahriman sort of snorted. “Believe him. He didn’t.”
Jenevier looked back at the Drowl. “You grow alongside mushrooms?”
Ardune nodded.
“But… people eat mushrooms.” She furrowed her brow. “Could someone actually pluck up a Drowl and toss it into a stew?”
Ardune nodded again. “When they are just starting out, yes.”
“But that’s… That’s horrible—accidentally eating a baby Drowl.”
“I hear they taste like unripened blueberries,” Ahriman said, keeping his gaze fixed on the arena floor.
“I have heard that as well.” Ardune sighed. “Ahh… the brutal indifference of life. Eh, my Lady?”
Jenevier didn’t speak, only swallowed hard before turning her attention to the ongoing battle below.
Yes, she thought. The brutal indifference of life.
“My Lady, if I could be so bold as to ask…”
Jenevier turned back to the Drowl.
“Are you hungry?” He brushed her curls back behind her shoulder. “You look a bit peckish. Have you been sleeping well?”
“I am fine.” She blushed slightly. “I could do with some rose tea, though.”
“Here, my Lady. Take a seat.” After Ardune had dusted off a spot for her, he turned to Ahriman. “Did you truly bring her to this place just as she is? Without anything proper to eat or drink?”
“I didn’t bring her here,” Ahriman said. “I lured her. There’s a difference. I knew not how she would show up, only that she would. Worry not for her, Drowl. Jenevier is a fighter. She can take care of herself.”
“Perhaps if she were yet Angel, she could,” Ardune snapped.
Ahriman furrowed his brow as he glanced at Jenevier’s profile.
“She is still among the living, Angel. I can hear her heartbeat from here. Do you expect her to live as do the rest of us? You may have lured her here, but you didn’t think it through. She is a human girl again, Ahriman. Her Grace was taken. You had to know that would happen.”
Ahriman didn’t speak, but the worry began to show on his face.
“Get that whole beautiful little Angel thing out of your head, and know this. She may yet be beautiful, but she is obviously no Angel.” Ardune glanced down at the continuing battle, then back to the soul-eater. “Who knows how many more years this will go on? The girl needs somewhere to sleep and bathe and dress.”
“But this is Sheol,” Ahriman said. “Where am I supposed to find a place like that?”
“You should have thought of that before you lured her here. Or at the very least, waited until the final battle had been set.”
“I couldn’t wait that long,” Ahriman mumbled.
“You are as selfish as you are arrogant, Angel.” Ardune tsked and shook his head. “You’ll need to bring her food to eat on a regular basis. And by the old gods… bring the Lady some rose tea.”
They both glanced back at her just as a large Gargoyle sat down beside her, generously offering to share his cup of bugs. Jenevier gagged.
“Look at that,” Ardune said. “You don’t even have to be a Drowl to know the Lady is in distress. Even that cretin of a Gargoyle is trying to feed her.”
“But…” Ahriman glanced toward Shamsiel. “I don’t want to leave her here, alone. And it is impossible for me to take her with me.”
“I will see to the Lady in your absence, Angel. But hurry… before she starts throwing up all over the place. Or, heaven forbid, faints right where she is sitting,” he mumbled.
*****
The large brownish-green ogre only grunted when he was finally run through.
With his spear still protruding through his opponent’s chest, the winning Gargoyle lifted his arms and shouted. Cheers rained down on the victor while the newest statue was carried from the arena. When the cries had finally died down, Shamsiel made Jenevier’s formal introduction to the crowd and combatants alike. She then noticed a r
ush of creatures head toward the far side of the arena floor.
“Seems the look of you has garnered even more interest than before.” Shamsiel pointed at the gathering crowd. “It will take poor old Terral hours to sort out all the new warriors now tossing their tile into the box.” He chuckled. “Not like it will matter. You are mine, little girl.”
She cast him a sideways glance. “You truly believe you can defeat Ahriman?”
“I know I can.”
“Have you ever seen the Angel fight?”
“Of course I have.” Shamsiel snorted. “Unlike you, I am no babe.”
“Babe or not, I was breathless next to his grace in battle. He moved like the wind… like a silent, deadly shadow. He danced. I’m not even joking, Shamsiel. That Angel swept over the battlefield as elegantly as if he were gliding a lover across the dance floor. Even though he glows like a newborn star, those demons never saw him coming.” She snorted out a sardonic laugh. “If I were you, Red, I would think long and hard before I drew my blade against the soul-eater. Wicked is too gentle a word for that warrior Angel.”
Shamsiel grabbed her elbow and squeezed. “You should have questioned Uriel further concerning my abilities. I wasn’t his right-hand based simply upon my amazing looks alone. I earned that position, great-whatever granddaughter.”
Jenevier only rolled her eyes.
As she stepped down from the podium, Ardune took her hand.
“Come with me, my Lady.”
The Drowl quietly led her away from the arena and ever deeper into Sheol.
After they had walked for quite some time, Jenevier noticed a concentration of witch-vine up ahead and to their left.
“Ardune?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Do you think perhaps we could rest for a bit… over there, where it’s lighter? It seems I have forgotten what if feels like to be human. My legs are weary, and I thirst.”
Without a word, Ardune swept her up in his arms and continued walking. Jenevier started to complain, but was far too thankful to play at modesty.
“Not much further now, my Lady. Soon, you can fill your belly and get some rest.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but… it isn’t more bugs, is it? Or those giant spiders that Tree-man was eating.” She shivered. “When he would crack their legs off…”
Ardune chuckled. “You did very well, my Lady. I was surprised. You handled yourself like a pro back there. Even though your face turned about seven shades of green.”
“Ugh…” She shuddered all over. “I don’t believe I have swallowed back that much bile the whole of my life.”
“Worry not, little one. You shouldn’t have to go back to the arena anymore. Not until the end.”
“Little one, huh?” Jenevier smiled. “You and I are about the same size. How is it you call me little?”
“Because you are a Lady.” He smiled. “I haven’t seen one in so long… I forgot how dainty they were, how wonderful they smell. Here we go.”
When the Drowl lowered her to her feet, Jenevier realized they had come to the same glowing spot she had seen in the distance.
“Is this your home, Ardune?”
“We do not have homes in Sheol. This is simply a place I come when I wish for peace… wish to be alone.”
“Oh, and look… it’s right by a lake. That is water, isn’t it? The absence of light makes it hard to tell.”
Just as Jenevier was about to dip her toes into the still, black pool, Ardune jerked her back against him.
“Do not enter the water, my Lady. Never breach its surface.”
“But… why?”
“There are things asleep within its depths. Things that should remain there, undisturbed.” He took her hand. “Let’s get inside.”
Jenevier’s mouth fell open when they stepped through the mouth of the glowing cave.
“Ardune… it’s… it’s lovely. I never dreamed there was a place like this in Sheol.”
“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” The Drowl smiled. “When last I was here, there was nothing but dirt and vines.”
She lightly ran her fingertips along the fluffy blanket draped over the large bed. “What are you saying? Is this magic?”
Ardune snorted out a laugh. “Hardly. Now, sit down and eat while it’s still warm, my Lady.”
Only then did Jenevier notice the small table in the middle of the room.
“What is it?” She sat down cross-legged, smiling as she lifted the lid. “Oh… heavens holy stars. That smells incredible!” She snapped the chopsticks apart. “Where in the universe did you get this, Ardune? Come. Join me. If I eat all this myself, I’ll pop wide open.”
The Drowl knelt across from her. “You have a beautiful smile, my Lady. It reminds me of home… back when I was useful… needed.”
“Oh, Ardune.” Her eyes involuntarily rolled when she took her first bite. “These are the best noodles I have ever tasted. Here. Open wide.”
He smiled before slowly obeying. “You are right, my Lady. Never have I tasted their like.”
“How did you do it, Brother? How did you manage all this?”
“I didn’t, my Lady. Your Angel made all this possible. As I said, this was merely a cave when last I left it. The bed, the tub, all those blankets and girly things… your Angel brought them here while we were waiting in the arena for your formal introduction.”
Jenevier swallowed hard, then stopped eating.
“Don’t call him that. Ahriman is not my Angel.”
“Apologies, my Lady.”
“That soul-eater is the whole reason I am stuck here in the first place. If it weren’t for that forever-damned creature… I’d be having tea and laughing with my family back at the palace.”
“You have a palace, my Lady?”
She glanced up at the Drowl, then back down to her noodles. “I was Empress of Jinn… only this morning,” she whispered softly, tears burning the backs of her eyes. “Here, Ardune.” She handed him the chopsticks. “I’ve had about enough. Will you finish it up for me? I’d like to get some rest now.”
“Just a little more. Please?” the Drowl begged. “You need to keep your strength up. Just one more bite. Okay?” He smiled when she opened her mouth for him. “With no sun here, your lovely skin will suffer if you don’t eat properly.”
“I am not a child,” she grumbled while still chewing.
Ardune smiled softly. “And I am not treating you as a child. I am treating you as a Lady should be treated.” He fed her another mouthful. “If you were my Lady… you would have never even met that vile Angel in the first place,” he said, continuing to feed her. “I would have been your ever-constant. Ahriman would never have made it within speaking distance of you.”
“I had many capable Guardians,” Jenevier whispered, glancing away. “The fact that I met Vybius had nothing to do with them. No… that horrible introduction was due to my own stupid mistake, no one else’s.”
Jenevier turned back to him and opened her mouth, but she didn’t make eye contact with the Drowl.
“That’s it,” Ardune said through a gentle smile. “Eat as much as you can while it is yet warm, my Lady. There is no fire in Sheol—no way to heat it back up.” He laid the chopsticks aside as he poured her tea. “Now… where did that arrogant Angel leave the sugar cubes?’ he mumbled. “Oh, here they are… beside the fruit.”
Jenevier glanced over at the large fruit-laden bowl on the small nightstand. Her eyes went wide.
“Is that… Is that Tissamon fruit?”
“I know not,” Ardune said, picking up a piece. “Would you like me to cut one for you?”
The Drowl smiled when Jenevier only nodded her head, keeping her now brightened gaze locked upon the pink fruit in his hand.
*****
When the Drowl had counted her steady breaths for several minutes, he quietly stepped back out into the darkness.
“Did she eat? Is she resting?”
Ardune nodded. “She ate a b
it. She’s sleeping now.”
Ahriman began to pace back and forth, worry furrowing his brow.
“That’s too little, too late, Angel.” Ardune sighed. “She’s here now. Nothing can be done for it.”
“Do not leave her side for a moment,” Ahriman said.
“I have no intention of it. Now, stop your incessant pacing before you draw the attention of something neither one of us wants to deal with.”
Ahriman quickly glanced to the smooth, black waters. “Will she be safe here?”
“Yes.” Ardune nodded. “Safe enough. I like to come here because no one else dares. We won’t have to worry about unwelcome company. I’ll tend to her now. You just go and see what you can do to speed up the process. If Father loves her as much as you say He does…”
“He does,” Ahriman whispered. “I am certain of it.”
“Aye, well, if He does… He’ll not be handing her over to the likes of you.”
Ahriman glared at the Drowl, but didn’t speak.
“And you can forget about keeping her here as your willing, or unwilling, bride. I hope you can see that now.”
Still, Ahriman held his tongue.
“If you lock her in Sheol, she’ll die here… well and good. This is not the land of the living, Angel. This you know. If she dies here, her soul will go wherever her soul is meant to go. Either way, you lose.”
Ahriman looked away. “Just… take care of her.”
“It is what I live for.” Ardune smiled. “To think that I would be in charge of another Lady… even in my dreams, I didn’t dare hope for such a thing.”
Ahriman studied the Drowl’s smiling profile a moment, before begrudgingly returning to the arena.
*****
Ardune’s soft humming is what pulled Jenevier’s eyes open. She smiled.
“What a lovely tune, Ardune. Is it from your homeland?”
“Yes. It is a lullaby, my Lady.”
When she sat up and yawned, he gently placed a cup in her hands.
“I fear the tea has cooled, Empress. Please forgive me the lack of comfort afforded you here.”
“You can just call me Jenevier.” She took a drink. “And, cold tea is better than no tea, any day. Gratitude, Brother.”
