only a short while, he had become a monster, a vile and detestable renegade. He had perpetrated matricide after all, and yet he sought only to flee and satisfy his other urges.
Ruffin let Devon’s head fall to the ground as he slid out from under his weight. He cleaned his blade on the cloth of his friend’s jacket and then casually put it back in his belt. The elf, by now possessed by the evil that coursed through his veins, stood and grabbed the feet of the corpse. He dragged it into the nearby bushes and rudely covered it with some loose branches and leaves.
I will be long gone by the time anyone discovers him, he thought. No one comes here anymore anyway.
“His soul will be halfway to Sedahar before anyone happens upon him,” he said aloud, laughing like a crazy man.
As if possessed, he carefully undid the latches that secured the small lift closed. Flipping the trap door open, he stepped into the dark space and felt the platform securely beneath his feet. Ruffin slowly lowered himself just a few feet with the ropes and then he reached up to close the panel above him. As soon as it was shut tightly, he lowered himself to the ground.
The air was heavy with moisture, and his lungs were heaving and blowing by the time he reached the damp soil below. The sky was dark and the clouds concealed what little light the half-moon shed upon the surface. He stepped off the platform and began to walk in the direction of Aramela’s home. Her father was a trapper and he lived upon the surface all year long, ascending to the Heights only when he needed to sell his skins at the market. Ruffin visited her surreptitiously often and he knew the way to her cottage by heart. He had to be careful of the old man though. There was nothing but enmity between them and he disapproved of the relationship Ruffin had with his daughter.
The young elf had fallen so far so fast, that he was totally unaware of his blood-spattered tunic and his deranged look. He traipsed through the woods like a school child on an outing. All he could think about was his lover, and the thought of laying in her arms once more compelled him forward unhindered by regret or remorse. Seramour was no more than a distant memory, a childhood vision. He was free now. Aramela would understand his need. She would take him in and comfort him forever.
He broke into a run and ignoring the twigs and branches that scratched his face and arms and ripped his clothing. He stumbled upon a small rock that obstructed his path unseen and he fell headfirst into a stagnant pool of muddy water. Frenziedly, he raised himself up and continued to run. His sleeve got caught on a protruding tree limb and he tore it loose, incognizant of the half he left behind. Like a wild animal, he entered the clearing that surrounded Aramela’s modest home. He saw the candle burning in her window and he dashed headlong for it.
She awaits me , he thought, totally unhinged now. She must have known I would come .
“Aramela? Aramela?” he whispered at the window. “Let me in. I am here, my love.”
Chapter Eleven
“Who will be the one to do my bidding, my beauties?” Colton asked of the eight women lying prone, spread-eagle in a semi-circle around him. “It is a very special task I have for you and if you are successful, you will share my bed the evening you return,” he exclaimed.
The women dared not raise their heads from the stone floor. Nor did they even move a muscle during this encounter with their Lord, but their hearts beat faster and their bodies responded passionately to the suggestion of lying with the Dark One. Each of the women was shrouded in a black sheath that covered her from head to toe. All that distinguished one from the next was the soles of their bare feet and the hair upon their heads.
“Adrianna? Shall it be you, my lovely one?” he walked to one of the women whose blonde hair stood out sharply against the black of her garment. “Will you possess the girl for me? Will
Ruffin let Devon’s head fall to the ground as he slid out from under his weight. He cleaned his blade on the cloth of his friend’s jacket and then casually put it back in his belt. The elf, by now possessed by the evil that coursed through his veins, stood and grabbed the feet of the corpse. He dragged it into the nearby bushes and rudely covered it with some loose branches and leaves.
I will be long gone by the time anyone discovers him, he thought. No one comes here anymore anyway.
“His soul will be halfway to Sedahar before anyone happens upon him,” he said aloud, laughing like a crazy man.
As if possessed, he carefully undid the latches that secured the small lift closed. Flipping the trap door open, he stepped into the dark space and felt the platform securely beneath his feet. Ruffin slowly lowered himself just a few feet with the ropes and then he reached up to close the panel above him. As soon as it was shut tightly, he lowered himself to the ground.
The air was heavy with moisture, and his lungs were heaving and blowing by the time he reached the damp soil below. The sky was dark and the clouds concealed what little light the half-moon shed upon the surface. He stepped off the platform and began to walk in the direction of Aramela’s home. Her father was a trapper and he lived upon the surface all year long, ascending to the Heights only when he needed to sell his skins at the market. Ruffin visited her surreptitiously often and he knew the way to her cottage by heart. He had to be careful of the old man though. There was nothing but enmity between them and he disapproved of the relationship Ruffin had with his daughter.
The young elf had fallen so far so fast, that he was totally unaware of his blood-spattered tunic and his deranged look. He traipsed through the woods like a school child on an outing. All he could think about was his lover, and the thought of laying in her arms once more compelled him forward unhindered by regret or remorse. Seramour was no more than a distant memory, a childhood vision. He was free now. Aramela would understand his need. She would take him in and comfort him forever.
He broke into a run and ignoring the twigs and branches that scratched his face and arms and ripped his clothing. He stumbled upon a small rock that obstructed his path unseen and he fell headfirst into a stagnant pool of muddy water. Frenziedly, he raised himself up and continued to run. His sleeve got caught on a protruding tree limb and he tore it loose, incognizant of the half he left behind. Like a wild animal, he entered the clearing that surrounded Aramela’s modest home. He saw the candle burning in her window and he dashed headlong for it.
She awaits me , he thought, totally unhinged now. She must have known I would come .
“Aramela? Aramela?” he whispered at the window. “Let me in. I am here, my love.”
Chapter Eleven
“Who will be the one to do my bidding, my beauties?” Colton asked of the eight women lying prone, spread-eagle in a semi-circle around him. “It is a very special task I have for you and if you are successful, you will share my bed the evening you return,” he exclaimed.
The women dared not raise their heads from the stone floor. Nor did they even move a muscle during this encounter with their Lord, but their hearts beat faster and their bodies responded passionately to the suggestion of lying with the Dark One. Each of the women was shrouded in a black sheath that covered her from head to toe. All that distinguished one from the next was the soles of their bare feet and the hair upon their heads.
“Adrianna? Shall it be you, my lovely one?” he walked to one of the women whose blonde hair stood out sharply against the black of her garment. “Will you possess the girl for me? Will
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