by Al K. Line
"That's okay," said Arcene, waving away the gratitude. "He's a nice boy, if a little lacking in certain skills." Gosh, did that sound as rude as it does in my head.
"Um, well, yes. I've had the chance to think about that, and I've not done right by Beamer, I see that now. I... Oh, hey buddy."
Beamer handed over the water then plonked himself down on the sofa between Arcene and Drem.
"Thanks Beamer," said Arcene.
"Beamer, I was just saying to Arcene that I haven't done right by you, and I'm sorry. I want to hear all about your adventures, but first I want to say sorry. Truly, I am. I've been a bad father." Beamer began to interrupt but Drem held up a hand. "No, I have, I see that now. I've kept you hidden away, thinking it was for the best, when it was just selfish. I haven't taught you how to take care of yourself when I'm gone, how to hunt or fish or live in the wild. You don't know much about anything if truth be told, and that's my fault. Well," he said with a smile as he stood and paced back and forth, "all that's going to change. I'll let you come out with me more, we'll move somewhere more interesting, the country maybe, and we'll swim in lakes rather than swimming pools, and we'll sleep under the stars, and—"
"Really Father? Wow, that sounds so cool. But it's okay, you were just doing what you thought was best."
"Yes, and I was wrong. Very wrong." Drem turned to Arcene. "Um, would you like to take your sword off? It's very impressive but you don't look very comfortable."
Arcene sat rather awkwardly, hunched forward so her sword didn't get in her way. "I'm fine thanks," she said, in what she hoped was a nice, jolly young girl's voice.
"Okay, If you're sure?"
Arcene nodded. Leel lay down and stretched out, her body almost the length of the sofa. She began to chew on the sock.
"Ugh, Leel, that's so gross. Um, no offense," said Arcene, as she realized that was rather insulting.
"Haha, you're right, the socks were rather smelly. You enjoy yourself Leel. She really is a very large dog," noted Drem.
"I rode her! Just like the pretend horses we went through the roof on," chattered Beamer.
"My, you two have been on an adventure. Soon, tell me about it soon. But Arcene, are you not a little young to be out on your own? You are just a child after all," said Drem, noting her slender figure, pigtails and the bunnies on her over-the-knee socks.
Arcene smiled enigmatically, or thought she did, it actually came out more as a weird face contortion that was half sneer, half nose wrinkle. "I just look young is all, I can take care of myself."
"You should have seen her with her sword Father. She killed the—"
Arcene cut him off with a look, knowing that if he kept on talking about her killing an animal that she thought dangerous then it would lead to talk of the boar they had eaten before he knew what he was saying.
"What? What's wrong?" asked Drem.
"I ate meat. I ate boar," said Beamer, unable to keep his secret.
"You did, did you?" Beamer nodded. Arcene put a hand out to her side, ready to grab the hilt of her sword. "Well... haha, that's fine. Come on, I have a surprise for you." Dream headed for the door. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"
Beamer and Arcene exchanged glances then both shrugged their shoulders. They followed him to the door. Leel trailed behind.
Arcene turned and said, "Leel, drop."
Woof!
"No, now."
Leel dropped the sock and followed.
Frayed Edges
Whip was at the end of his tether. If he didn't do something about the twins soon then he was sure his cool, calm exterior, even his sanity, would unravel like a worn rope turning to dust in a dingy, dark nether-region of the castle.
What was wrong with them!?
Standing discreetly in the shade of the lower castle walls, Whip watched in dismay the scene playing out in front of him. There was no longer any doubt about it: the twins were severely unstable. They'd been getting worse, had for decades, but this? What on earth were they thinking?
"Move faster you. Run, RUN!" Fionn shouted at a man that put Whip's slender frame to shame — he was stick-thin and looked like his legs were as brittle as the rare kindling so prized by all of those within Castle Kenyon's walls. The poor man almost bent double as he tried to run, arthritis twisting his bones so he had a hunchback, legs bowed like carrots when they divided to grow around stones. "Faster!" shouted Fionn again, exasperated.
Nobody else on either team was in much better condition, but the twins were oblivious. They put their heads together, deep in conversation, raising their eyes to scowl at the members of their teams before ignoring them again, lost in their own secret world of madness.
"Hey, you. Yes, you, Keeper of The Marrows," barked Fionn, ignored by the man. Probably because he was missing an ear and deaf anyway.
Whip groaned at the title, they'd got worse with them too, giving almost everyone in the castle a stupid title after a long discussion about increasing morale — it left the pathetic souls confused. The man being addressed had kept all the marrows for a fortnight in his hovel, thinking it was his new job, rather than just ensure they grew properly in his section of the vegetable garden. Whip shook his head in dismay, and not for the first time that day.
Would it never end? Whip turned his attention back to the madness, he'd missed some, lost in thought, but picked up the gist.
"...if you don't want to be on sewer duty without a mask until you die, you fool. Go and kick the ball. Run. RUN!" screamed Flynn, exasperated by how his team fared.
Another of their idiotic ideas.
He'd actually been right beside them early that morning out in the main courtyard where daily business was always conducted — the various produce set up from the gardens, the communal meals given, the crops shared for the day. If you were late then you didn't eat and had nothing to take home to your family — standing only a few feet away, still and invisible, as they talked about how the people needed a distraction, something to get them going, give them a bit of "oomf."
At first he'd listened with amusement, then with growing concern, as they came up with one baffling idea after the other. Finally, they had settled on soccer, a game that was once the most popular sport in the country. Whip had read about it long ago, but never thought he would see it played. It was a game lost to people now — the children usually amused themselves with "hide-it," a game he never quite understood as it seemed to involve throwing vegetables at walls and then screaming as they ran to point at bits and score each other in some arcane and ridiculously complex way.
But soccer? Daft. The twins had probably come across it in some book or other and, like with most of their "bright" ideas, it had stuck in their minds — as far as they were concerned if they understood the basics of the game then so should all the half-starved, genetically inbred people of Castle Kenyon.
Unsurprisingly, the day went downhill rapidly.
The huge courtyard was cleared of all makeshift buildings, carts and various stalls selling all manner of nonsense, and the twins organized the game — Whip used the term organize loosely in his thoughts, it was a farce.
The less-than-enthusiastic workers, stall-holders and anyone else that happened to be in the courtyard, were told they were to play an exciting game — they knew better than to argue. Children were excited, those trying to barter goods were downright annoyed at having business interrupted, and the workers were a mix of pleased to have time off from work, or too exhausted, frail, or unbalanced to show much interest at all.
Then the twins picked teams. It went on for almost an hour, both bickering about who they wanted and who was to do what, until finally there were two sides — a mass of people that grew more confused as the twins became more and more exasperated. They tried to explain how the game worked, that what it boiled down to was that one team had to kick a ball between the goalposts of the opposing team. The goalposts made up of the extremely frail, who kept wandering away in a daze, leading to Fionn exploding and sh
outing angrily, his face turning purple — there was no way he would allow a goal when his goalpost had gone to pick up an apple.
The longer Whip watched, the worse it got. Confusion built, shouts got louder, people tried to sneak off without getting caught and the children ran around waving their arms about, having changed the rules. They kept picking the ball up — leading to more shouts from the twins, who had both appointed themselves as referee, so they argued over every decision and the teams didn't know what on earth they were supposed to do.
Halfway through the day, with the sun scorching the ancient courtyard, the heat radiating from the walls making it almost intolerable and the humidity rising, people started to collapse. Then it got violent.
Whip watched in dismay from the shade, feeling uncomfortable in the heat, knowing those out in the sun would be desperate for a rest. The more agile players treated the game as an excuse to settle arguments, or kick and punch those they had an issue with. It was always a problem in the cloying atmosphere of the castle: with nowhere to go, and no chance of escaping those you disliked, arguments often turned deadly. Fights were common, and family feuds passed down from generation to generation until no one knew what they fought about but carried on hating their neighbors anyway.
Here was a chance to get revenge without fear of reprisal — punishment was severe for anyone found guilty of even the smallest crime, the twins' sentencing always swift and severe.
Punches were thrown, shins kicked, and as the temperature rose so did the violence, until the game descended into outright war.
Fionn and Flynn's shouts went unheeded, nobody could hear them above the screams. They stomped their feet in frustration and anger from the imaginary sideline like the children they were, their role as referees abandoned.
Whip shook his head in exasperation, were they truly such imbeciles? What was the matter with them? He watched as Flynn moved into the mass of people, stepped over bodies on the floor, ignored moans and pleas for help, and shouted the teams down. A few minutes later they were quiet, but rather than sending them back to their work all he did was tell them to get on with the game.
It was ridiculous, nobody even knew which side they were on. Players switched teams as they didn't know who to pass to, so the ball was just kicked about at random, goals scored by those clueless about whether the goal they kicked the ball at was their opponents' or not. The twins were no better. They bickered about players, the score, and if it counted if your goalie punched anyone that even came near him with a ball.
It was over. The heat became intolerable for the two rulers of Castle Kenyon, so they pronounced the game done, and a draw. Whip knew they did this to save face as they had no idea what the score was — they couldn't even hope to keep count, let alone come up with something as devilishly clever as a way the players could know whose side they were on by having colored ribbons or any other way to differentiate them.
"Idiots, absolute idiots," muttered Whip, as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket. "I hope that girl returns, she'll stir things up, I'm sure of it." Whip left the courtyard, he'd seen more than enough. His mind was made up — they would have to go.
He kept saying that, didn't he? This time he meant it, there was no hope otherwise.
The castle needed a complete overhaul, someone with intelligence in charge. Laws needed to be updated, the diet certainly needed to be changed, and the people, well, they needed to understand their place, have clear direction, not be dragged into the boiling hot sun to play a game that nobody had heard of for hundreds of years, let alone understood.
"Fools. They're like little children playing with dolls, not men with responsibilities for their subjects." Whip went into the cool interior of the castle, leaving the twins to their bickering and shouting, as they gave orders to clear away the bodies and set up the marketplace again.
I need a rest, time for a little doze I believe.
Whip closed the thick wooden door behind him, shutting off the din of the day, letting his body relax in the quiet of the only home he had ever known.
This Little Piggy...
"Surprise," said Drem, as he stepped aside to reveal three piglets running around happily in a large penned area, covered in mud and kicking it everywhere.
"Wow!" Beamer stared first at the pigs then at his father. "You got these, for us?"
"I did indeed," said Drem, nodding as he put an arm on his son's shoulders. "They were a right bugger to catch, I can tell you, and convincing them to walk up all the stairs wasn't easy. But I got them, for us. For you."
Beamer squirmed a little but couldn't contain himself. "Are we going to eat them? Are we allowed to eat meat now then?" he blurted, then put his hand to his mouth like he'd said something terrible. Arcene felt sorry for him, that he was so scared to broach the subject for fear of his father shouting at him, but something had clearly changed while Beamer had been away and Drem didn't react how Arcene assumed he would.
Drem got down onto one knee and put his arms on Beamer's shoulders. He stared into his eyes and said, "I was wrong about so many things Beamer, I thought it was for your own good, to protect you, but I was mistaken. We are going to breed pigs and we are going to make a lot of other changes from now on. We're a team and we stick together. Now we have her we can make some proper changes, do everything differently. Better. That is if you want to keep her?" Drem pointed at Arcene; Beamer nodded his head vigorously. "Good. She'll be better than any of the others by the looks of her, and—"
"What the hell are you talking about?" said Arcene, a really, really bad feeling making her belly ache like her insides were being unwound and smacked against the floor. "What's going on here?"
Beamer and Drem ignored her and Beamer said, "We can keep her? Oh, goody. I like her a lot Father, and she's strong."
Arcene reached for her sword.
The floor opened up and the next thing she knew Leel was on top of her and her back hurt. The smell was awful too.
Beamer and Drem peered down at her, leaning forward to look into the pit fifteen feet below them. They smiled like they had at the pigs.
This is mad. What the hell are they doing?
"I thought you were a nice boy Beamer. I thought we were friends?"
"We are," said Beamer, looking hurt. "So were they, for a while." He pointed to a dark corner of the space Arcene was in — the source of the smell, a collection of bones with a body on top little more than mushy flesh. Maggots crawled over it, gnawing it slowly down to the bone. "Father didn't like the last one, so she had to go. Now we have a new helper and isn't it great Arcene? We get to stay together forever and ever. As long as you're good," warned Beamer, staring at his father with hope and eagerness. "We get to keep her?"
"Of course. I told you, anything for you Beamer. But the dog will have to go, she's too big, too dangerous."
"Okay," said Beamer. "But she's a nice doggie." Beamer leaned over, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Sorry Leel. See you later Arcene."
"Hey! Wait!" The roof slid closed. The room was black.
A Restless Night
"Ugh, geddof me Leel you big daft lump." Arcene shivered, not knowing if it was night or day, only that she hurt and her prison stank. Oh, and she really, really needed a pee. Leel resting the full weight of her head right on her belly didn't help with that urgent need, assuming it was Leel and not something horrible in the dark.
Arcene put a hand to the weight on her belly and felt the familiar floppy ears that confirmed it was Leel and nothing sinister. Leel grunted then began to snore again. "Leel. LEEL! Get up you stupid dog, you're supposed to be on guard duty, not using me as your pillow. Ugh, it's freezing."
It had been a long night, full of dark thoughts, disappointment and incredulity concerning her young friend. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? More to the point: how could Beamer and Drem do such a thing? She should know better, she'd experienced the dark side of humanity on countless occasions, yet she still
usually saw the good in people, and look where it had got her. Well, they'd pay, both of them would pay dearly for thinking they could do anything to her against her will.
Arcene had been kidnapped once before, and it did not go well for her abusers. And the man that had taken her, violated her and stolen her child before she chased him down? Hopefully he remained in The Void, or reborn into the body of a worm deep in the soil, blind and unknowing of what it was to be a human being.
"LEEL!"
Woof?
"Get up, I need a pee." Leel shifted and Arcene felt the relief on her bladder. She swapped her position from leaning against the wall and stood, shaking her leg until the life came back to it. Arcene tried to recall where she was in the room, but the restless night had taken her memory of the space with it — she had no idea what was where.
"Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid." Arcene hadn't even thought to use her Awoken powers to improve her eyesight, it must have been the shock of what happened, she wasn't thinking clearly. Leel whined again, like she had for half the night, never leaving Arcene's side, rubbing against her leg for comfort. "It's all right Leel, don't you worry. We'll get out of here, and then there will be trouble. Big trouble." Arcene patted Leel to comfort her then turned her attention to her body. What was wrong with her? She hadn't even increased her core temperature to ensure she was warm. She really must be out of sorts. It was the horror of Beamer turning from what she believed was a nice, if innocent, young boy into what, a savage? Well, she supposed it was his father's doing, warping the boy so he had no idea what was right or wrong. Still, he had to pay, didn't he?
Focus, stop wasting time.
Arcene warmed herself up by increasing her temperature and thought more clearly. She concentrated on her eyes, dilating the pupils as wide as she possibly could, wider than her body would naturally do. It wasn't a perfect solution, and she couldn't do it for too long for fear of causing harm, especially if the roof opened unexpectedly as that could damage the retinas, but for now it would at least allow her to have a pee without stumbling over rotten corpses — a risk worth taking as far as she was concerned.
