White Thorn Peaches--The Silver Queen

Elle had not wanted to go. If it was up to her, she would still be asleep like any other normal teenager would on such a gorgeous Saturday. Yet, her mother, being the super/PTA/soccer mom of the neighborhood, had insisted in bringing Elle along on her most recent house-cleaning adventure.

No one had known Mr. Rist very well. He hardly ever left his old, Victorian-style home, and the few times he did were only for church services on holidays. Still, when he died, the whole neighborhood was fluttering with the news. Nobody really missed the old man and he had had no surviving family members (other than a giant, old dog that was never on a leash and stopped anyone from setting foot upon the porch), but every super-mom in the neighborhood was jumping at the chance to clean out his house for auction. Surely, they thought, he must have something of great value if he was so protective of his house.

And so, as fate would have it, Elle’s mother was one of the lucky ladies who got to pick through Mr. Rist’s things. She was a cheater, of course, and so she left earlier to beat the other women there and, to ensure that even more work was done to her credit, she decided to bring Elle along as a helper.

Elle was fifteen and just days away from getting her license. The last thing she wanted to be doing on a Saturday was cleaning some old fart’s house. Mr. Rist was not well-liked by the youth of the neighborhood. In fact, his house was a well-known target for vandalism. Almost every Halloween and New Year’s Eve morning revealed a fresh covering of toilet paper over all the trees and bushes in front of his house. Elle felt like a little kid being forced to apologize for breaking his window with a baseball that her friend hit. She had not done anything to Mr. Rist (though she had friends who had) and yet she was the one who had to clean up the mess afterwards.

The car slowly rumbled up Mr. Rist’s driveway. Elle groaned as she unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled out of the car. She wished that she was still young enough to scream and throw a fit to get out of helping, but alas, she was too old for that sort of behavior.

Elle helped her mother carry some empty boxes into the house. All they were supposed to do was take all the canned and boxed food and small trinkets, anything that did not require heavy-lifting. The living room of the old house was rather neat and tidy, though it held the scent of old cologne and dog. There was a staircase on one side and two separate hallways across the room from the door. A fireplace still lined with ashes sat on the other side of the room.

Elle’s mother looked around approvingly. If there were no heirs to inherit the house, she would buy it herself. She picked up a few boxes and went to one of the hallways.

“I think the kitchen is down this hall,” she said. “I’ll take this one, and you can have the other. We’ll meet out here, take a break, and then move to the upstairs.”

“Whatever,” groaned Elle as she picked up her boxes and walked down the hallway. The hallway was filled with little statues. There were little ceramic rabbits and squirrels, small glass ducks and swans, porcelain cats, collectable plates, plastic fruit, clocks, portraits of dead relatives, a painting of Jesus, random pieces of nativity scenes, and metal crosses. Elle wrapped each one of these things in bubble wrap and put it into a box. She had a good three boxes full before she finished the hallway and was ready to move into the bedroom to retrieve the blankets from the bed.

Mr. Rist’s bedroom looked as if he had planned on dying beforehand. His bed had been made and all of the cologne and clothing had been neatly packed away in drawers. The only thing that seemed disorderly was the dying plant sitting by the window. There was a mirror sitting by a bureau and a silvery oil painting hanging over the dresser. There were no other decorations in the room unless you counted the light blue curtains that were fluttering slightly in the breeze that flowed through the open window.

Elle walked over to the mirror to observe her reflection. She adjusted her hair for a bit when the reflection staring back at her seemed to morph into another girl. This girl looked a bit like Elle, but she was dressed in a white gown with silver jewelry all over her. Elle jumped back from the mirror and looked back at the reflection, but the girl was gone.

A trick of the brain, that was all. Elle backed away from the mirror when the painting caught her eye. From a distance, it had just seemed like an abstract painting, but now Elle could see that it was a strange painting of a cluster of white thorns with little pink peaches growing from them. Elle did not know why, but she wanted to touch one of the peaches. She decided it would not hurt as long as she was careful. She slowly reached out her hand to grab it, but, no matter how far she stretched her arm out, she found she was unable to reach the peach. She climbed on the dresser and gripped the frame of the painting to reach in farther. All she wanted was that peach.

Just a little closer, Elle was standing on the frame now. Her fingers were so close to the peach she could almost feel it. She jumped forward and her fist closed around the fruit. She smiled and was about to turn around and go back to cleaning Mr. Rist’s bedroom, but the room was gone. She was surrounded by white thorns. She winced and tensed up for fear of being scratched, but they seemed to form a passage around her. She fell through darkness and thorns and peaches until she saw a blue pool form below her. She hit the water and everything went black.



Elle’s eyes slowly opened. She groaned and closed them again, but, when she remembered her situation, she shot up. She was surrounded by the white thorns, just as she had been when she was falling, but now they were arranged in neat rows, like a hedge maze. She was sitting in a shallow pool of water, though it did not feel wet at all. Neither her hair nor her clothing had gotten the least bit moist. Where was she?

Elle got to her feet and observed her surroundings. The pool dried up as soon as she exited it. This must be a dream, there was no other explanation. She noticed a large white castle beyond the wall of thorns. Why had she not seen that before? Then again, things always had a tendency to pop up without notice at any point in time during Elle’s dreams. She decided to go and check the castle out. She might as well make the best of this dream while it lasted, for she was certain her mother would shake her awake and scold her for falling asleep on the job as soon as she was discovered.

After a few turns, Elle realized that she was hopelessly lost in the maze. She sighed. If this was a normal hedge maze, she would just jump over the walls until she got out, but, seeing as this was a maze of thorns, that was not an option.

Suddenly, a hole broke apart in the wall of thorns, creating a passageway. Elle was about to use it herself when a boy exited through it. He stared at her curiously for a moment while she observed him with the same inquisitiveness. He was tall, though just slightly taller than she, with long, black hair so dark it almost looked blue and handsome features. He was dressed in a black, loose-fitting tunic lined with purple and black pants. His dark clothing and hair contrasted brilliantly with his icy blue eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was deep but gentle.

“I’m Elle,” she said. She blushed. He was very attractive.

“Garret,” the boy said. He knelt down and gripped her hand, pressing it to his lips. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Elle.”

Elle blushed and quickly pulled her hand away from him.

“U-um,” Elle fumbled for words. “So where are we?”

“This is the palace of Neimurr,” he said, turning to look at the white castle.

Elle sighed. It was one of those dreams, was it? That was the last time she watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in a row.

“What strange garments you have,” Garret commented. “What kingdom do you hail from?”

“I’m not from this world,” Elle replied a bit shakily. Garret would undoubtedly take her for a lunatic or a liar. But, quite on the contrary, he seemed to take in her claim with earnest intrigue.

“That peach,” Garret motioned to her hand; where she was grasping the peach she had taken from the painting, “tell me; where did you get it from?”

Elle had not even noticed the peach until now. Of course, it might just be another thing her dream threw in to fill up a plot hole.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I had it when I got here.”

Garret looked thoughtful.

“You’re one of them then, are you?” he said, putting unusual distain in the words.

“Them?” Elle questioned. She did not like the way he said the word.

“I cannot be certain,” Garret ignored the question. “Come, we must investigate this matter further.”

Garret turned his back on Elle. She had half a mind to grab him by the collar and demand answers until he gave her everything she wanted, but her natural curiosity got the best of her. Garret waved his hand over the thorns and they broke apart into a passage. He offered a hand to Elle, and she hesitantly took it. His grip felt hot and sent a burning sensation up her arm that caused her to break away from him. By the look on his face, he felt it too.

The sensation faded away after a moment and Garret seemed to forget that it had ever happened. He led Elle through a few thorny passages, each of them closing as soon as they passed through. Before Elle knew it, they were standing in front of a set of giant wooden doors covered in silvery runes. The doors opened with a wave of Garret’s hand and they found themselves inside of a long, stone hallway. The hallway was lined with paintings and sculptures, many of the thorns and peaches outside. Elle noticed a few trinkets from Mr. Rist’s hallway, things like little stone rabbits and porcelain cats as well as a few religious symbols. Garret paid no heed to any of these objects, but rather took Elle straight up a winding staircase and through another wooden door.

The room was filled with bookshelves, so much so that the walls appeared to be made of books. The ceiling was so high that shadows ate it up before Elle could see it. There was an old man in the middle of the room. Books were floating around him in a circle, slowly turning their own pages as he walked around to observe their contents. He was a strange-looking old man. His head was perfectly bald and shiny as the moon, but everything below his round, pink nose was eaten up by a long, white beard. He had a pair of spectacles that appeared to have been cracked many times but never mended. He was wearing a long, blue robe that covered everything but the tips of his bare toes that stuck out from the bottom.

“Uncle,” Garret addressed the man. The man looked up from his books and immediately all of them closed and flew back to their appropriate positions on the shelves.

“Ah, Garret!” the old man said as if he was speaking to an old friend. “I thought you had gone into the peach grove for meditation!”

The man did not even seem to see Elle, but, then again, she imagined he could not see much through his cracked glasses.

“I was,” Garret said, “but then I ran into this girl.”

“Elle,” Elle filled in quickly.

The old man adjusted his glasses and leaned in close to Elle, so close, in fact, that she had to lean back to keep their noses from touching.

“So the old guy kicked the bucket, eh?” the old man asked Elle.

“Um…” Elle was not quite sure what he meant.

“Gregory Rist, that was his name,” the old man reiterated. “Did he finally pass on?”

“Yes, sir,” Elle answered, feeling she needed to speak to this man with the utmost courtesy.

“Ah, such a shame,” the old man shook his head. “And now you’re here. A very peculiar thing…”

“What?” Garret asked.

“Gregory was the guardian of the portal,” the old man explained. “Now that he’s gone, it seems that Elle got drawn in. A very peculiar thing…”

“Sir,” Elle yearned to understand, “I don’t think I understand.”

“Gregory Rist dedicated his life to keeping youth like you from entering the portal,” the old man responded. “You see, our two worlds are linked by a mystic portal. It has many disguises. Sometimes it’s a painting, sometimes a mirror, other times it could be a book or even a closet. It all depends on what form the guardian chooses. You see, Mr. Rist’s family guarded the portal for many centuries, but, obviously, he never had children for fear of them getting sucked in. He was the last member of his family line and now there’s nothing to prevent people from entering it.”

“But what happens to people who enter the portal?” asked Elle.

“They kill,” he answered simply.

Elle quickly fell silent. She would never kill someone, no matter what the reason.

“Please,” Garret spoke up, “don’t trouble Elle with such things.” He turned to her. “Do not listen to my uncle. He is just looking to scare you. No one really knows what happens to the people who enter the portal.”

The old man frowned at his nephew and then turned back to the bookshelves. A few volumes flew down and opened themselves and he began reading them again.

Garret led Elle back down the stairs. As he passed a servant on the stairs, he ordered a room to be prepared for Elle. That was the only instance he intended to speak, but Elle decided against it.

“Garret,” Elle said, “don’t lie for my sake. What really does happen to the people from my world?”

Garret hesitated a moment.

“Let us go somewhere more private,” he said. He led her to the end of the hall and then opened the door and ushered her inside. It was a bedroom. There was a big, canopy bed covered in pillows lying in the center and a bureau across the room. One wall was lined with bookshelves and the other with stained-glass windows and a cushioned window seat. Garret walked over to the window seat and motioned for Elle to join him.

“My uncle was not completely dishonest,” he said, not even looking at Elle now. “The people that exit the portal always arrive at a palace in any kingdom depending on the time of year. The last one landed in Georush, but that was hundreds of years ago. They are almost always young women and they always attempt to assassinate the Black Prince.”

“Who?” Elle asked.

“The Black Prince is born every hundred years or so,” Garret answered. “It is the name given to a prince who is born on the night of the new moon under the star of death. Sometimes it is a princess, but most of the time it is a male. The prince is always a dark mage of any element. I am the current Black Prince.”

Elle did not know what to say. She certainly had no intention of killing Garret.

“The person who is chosen to kill the Black Prince is called the Silver Queen,” Garret continued. “As I said before, they are almost always young women. They arrive every hundred years, usually after the Black Prince reaches manhood. They have never failed.”

“Garret, I…” Elle did not know how to respond.

“I am only seventeen,” Garret said. “I have yet to reach manhood, so my life will not end for at least another month.”

“Look,” Elle was a bit sterner now, “I’m not killing anyone and certainly not you. I don’t know who this Silver Queen is, but she isn’t me.”

“Lady Elle,” Garret said as he drew her into an embrace, “worry not for my sake. If it is truly my destiny to die by your hands, I shall accept it as an honor, not as a defeat.”

The embrace burned, but they tried to endure it. Eventually, the pain became too much and they had to break apart.

“Sire,” a servant poked his head into the room, but, seeing Elle, he quickly slipped back out.

“Go on, Shal,” Garret said, knowing full well that the servant was still listening at the door.

“The room is ready,” Shal called through the door.

Garret smiled at his servant’s reluctance to enter the room. Shal was obviously thinking that Garret was intimate with Elle. Garret rose and offered a hand to Elle. That same sensation ran through her arm, but it was less intense this time. Garret called for Shal to escort Elle to her room.

“I have business to attend to,” Garret told Elle, “but I shall check on you as soon as I return.”

Elle smiled at Garret. Her face felt hot and she was sure that her cheeks were turning red. Garret was very handsome and he seemed to genuinely care for her, but she could not be sure. After all, she was the one destined to kill him.

Shal was a short, nervous man. He was dressed all in black with a scruffy orange mane around his head and stubbly facial hair. He walked with a slight limp and his back was hunched a little. He looked a bit like the hunch-backed minion of every mad scientist in every old horror film she had ever seen.

The room was only three or four doors down from Garret’s. It was furnished much the same, lacking only the books but still containing the shelves. As soon as Elle was inside, Shal quickly slipped from the room. A change of clothes was lying on the bed. Elle opened the window and looked at the setting sun. She really was tired, and perhaps the dream would end if she fell asleep. She undressed and changed into the clothes laid out for her. It was a bit like a kimono in the decorations, but more like a robe in its simplicity. It tied around Elle’s waist like a bathrobe, but she guessed that it was only for sleeping and not for walking about in. Elle observed her reflection. She was tall for her age, so the robe fell only halfway down her knees. Her brown, wavy hair was draped about her shoulders in soft ripples, giving her a sort of retro look. Her eyes were green and dark. All in all, she was very pretty, or at least she had the self-esteem to think so.

Elle flopped down on the bed and buried her face in the pillows. These people might not have television or shaved armpits, but they sure knew how to make comfortable beds.



“Elle,” a soft voice woke her up. She expected to see her mother, but instead she found herself staring into the face of Garret. Elle slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“What time is it?” she groaned. She looked at the window and saw that light was no longer shining through it.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Garret said. “I wished to see you once more before I went to sleep.”

“No, it’s okay,” Elle replied groggily, “I was just sleeping.”

Garret smiled. Elle could see that he was holding back his fears. He was worried about the future, about what she was destined to do to him.

“Please don’t worry, Garret,” she said despite herself. “I don’t care about some destiny or whatever. There’s no way I’ll hurt you or anyone else, for that matter.”

Garret smiled again, but this time it was different.

“You’re so confident,” he said. He leaned in closer. Her heart started pounding, her face grew hot.

His lips made contact with hers. She felt herself melt into him. His arms slowly moved to her waist. Suddenly, she felt like she was on fire. She winced at the pain. He felt it too. They broke apart and stared at each other. Garret looked away from her, stood up, and began to leave the room.

“As long as fate is against us, we cannot be together,” he said slowly. “Goodnight, Lady Elle.”

Elle stared after him. She felt tears burning in her eyes. She had not known Garret for very long, but in her adolescence she had the power to become attached to a person very quickly. The fact that she could never have him just made the urge that much more powerful, and his acknowledgement of this made her want to defy fate even more than she had before.

A few minutes that could have been hours passed before Elle fell asleep again. She had no dreams, which caused her to expect to awaken in her world again, but it was not to be. She was awakened by the sharp burning sensation she experienced when Garret made contact with her and found him quickly shaking her awake.

“Awaken quickly, Lady Elle,” he urged. “You must leave this place now.”

Elle was frightened by Garret’s nervousness and haste.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she slipped out of bed.

“The palace is under attack,” he answered. “We are holding them off well enough, but we fear that they are trying to steal you from us. We need to get you as far from here as possible.”

Garret handed her another outfit. She looked for her old clothes and found them sitting on the bureau where she had left them. Although the clothes Garret handed to her were of good quality, she needed to retrieve her bra from the pile of her old clothing in order to be completely comfortable. Garret slipped out of the room while she changed. It was a black gown (which seemed to be the color most prominent in the castle) lined with purple at the seams. The chest tied up with purple strings and the sleeves were tightly bound with the same strings up until the elbows, where it branched out into what appeared to be a skirt for her arms. The dress matched oddly with her tennis shoes and blue socks with smiling monkeys on them, but it would do.

When Elle walked out of the room, she found Garret waiting for her. She carried her old clothing in a bundle at first, but then he handed her a sort of delivery bag made of deerskin. She found the bag filled with rations and another set of clothes. She stuffed her own clothing inside and turned to Garret to show that she was ready. He nodded and handed her a brown cloak, which she quickly drew over her shoulders and head. He adjusted it to make sure she was well-hidden and then grasped her hand. He was wearing gloves, so there was no burning sensation, but Elle’s heart still leapt at the contact. He led her down the hall a little ways until he came to a spot in the wall that was indented a bit. He waved his hand over it and it yielded. He quickly drew her inside and followed after, sealing the door as soon as they were inside. It was incredibly dark at first, but then Garret lit a torch on the wall which, in turn, caused all the other torches down the line to ignite.

“This passage leads out into the peach grove,” Garret said hastily. “I’ve drawn the thorns up as a cover. I’ll guide you through the maze, but, once outside, you will be taken by a caravan to the nearest palace. I shall follow as soon as we are certain the attackers are taken care of.”

Elle nodded, but did not speak. The passage took them downward and was so narrow that she and Garret had to walk sideways in order to fit. The torches were high above their heads, but, as they drew closer to the ground, they disappeared completely. The passageway widened and soon Garret opened the other end of the passage to reveal a tunnel of the white thorns. The sun was visible through the thorns, but only enough to allow them to see where they were going. Garret again created passages as he had done when he first guided Elle through the maze. After several walls of thorns, an opening was made into fresh air.

“This is where I leave you, Lady Elle,” said Garret.

Elle turned to him and looked at his face. She stretched onto her toes and kissed him lightly, careful to pull away before the sensation became too strong. As she was about to take her leave of him, there was the sound of uproar outside. Horses were crying out and bucking wildly and there were people shouting battle cries. The sounds of steel clashing against steel rang through the thorns. Elle strained to see what was happening, but Garret quickly blocked her view.

“Get behind me, Elle,” Garret commanded. Suddenly, an axe hacked through the thorns, followed by another and then another. Garret was about to retreat when a giant clawed foot ripped through the top of the thorns. It was a great gryphon with the talons, head, and wings of an eagle and the body and back legs of a lion. A man in silver armor was sitting on its back. It seemed to be impervious to the thorns and simply swooped down to grab another claw full.

Garret thrashed his arms and caused the thorns to separate from the vines. He fired the thorns at the gryphon. The beast shrieked in pain and retreated, but only for a bit. It quickly dived back down and ripped away another collection of vines. Garret knew that he could not protect Elle for long.

“Lady Elle, you must run,” he shouted. “Get as far from this place as you can and don’t look back until you’re sure you’re safe!”

Elle nodded and dashed for the cover of the vines. She knew that the gryphon would get her soon, but she wanted to draw attention away from Garret. She ripped the vines away from her, not caring that her hands and face were getting scratched. She kept going until she broke out of the brush. The gryphon flapped overhead, but she ran as fast as she could for the cover of the trees. A beast as large as that would never be able to follow her there. She ran faster and faster until she was certain her legs would fall off if she picked up any more speed. A sudden flash of light cut her off and she skidded to a stop. A fire blazed in front of her. She turned to run in another direction, but it cut her off again. She was trapped.

The fumes choked her as Elle tried in vain to find an escape route. She looked up at the sky, but the smoke hid it from view. Her vision was growing blurry; she was running out of oxygen.

When Elle was certain she was about to die, an armored man broke through the flames. The fire seemed to yield before him as if he commanded it. Elle was afraid and wanted to run, but she was too weakened by the fumes to do anything. The man grabbed her and lifted her off the ground, slinging her carelessly over her shoulder. He shouted up to the sky and the gryphon landed before him, allowing him to climb atop its back. Once in the air, he called out to his comrades on horseback, who were still attacking Garret. They quickly urged their horses into a gallop and ran off. Garret was in no condition to follow. He huffed a few times and then collapsed onto the ground. The gryphon flew beyond the forest and Elle saw Garret no more.

To read the more of this and other stories, please visit my website http://skippytales.bravehost.com. Thanks for reading!