Arcene: The Blue Castle

by Al K. Line

  But still, he had done terrible things, wasn't a nice man when you got right down to it, so she had still struggled with walking away, leaving them to their life, whatever that would end up being. It was down to them, down to Beamer to decide once he was older, and Drem had to come to terms with the man he was and the man he would strive to be.

  It didn't mean she liked him, not one bit.

  "Arcene, I'm sorry, okay? You girls are just impossible to understand. You don't know what you want, what's best for you."

  Swoosh.

  Drem's head fell to the floor, thudding on the pristine stone. The eyes were still open, looking at Arcene from the strange new level, blinking in incomprehension, the brain still alive and functioning as it would for a few more seconds. Beheading was never an instant death, they knew, they always knew, and saw. Suitable punishment for terrible deeds.

  It looked like he was emerging from the stone, as if his body would rise up and he would be a whole man again. Although the illusion was ruined by the headless body standing next to the head. It teetered then crashed down to the ground. Drem's eyes moved to the side and he stared at his own corpse lying beside him, shock registering, finally understanding what had happened.

  He closed his eyes. He was dead.

  "You asked for it," said Arcene, swishing her sword in the clear water, watching entranced as the pristine fountain stained pink like the stone beneath her feet.

  "I think it's time to leave the city Leel. I think it's past time to leave."

  Woof.

  "Good, I'm glad you agree."

  Leel sniffed at the corpse. Arcene noted that the backpack was a little loose on Leel so she bent and adjusted the straps — it had been on her for days now so she should probably take it off, but the weight meant nothing to Leel and Arcene didn't fancy carrying it herself so she would leave it on until they rested somewhere.

  "Ah, almost forgot. We need lighters. There's no way I'm messing about with sticks again to make a fire, it's really tiring."

  Arcene stepped over the body of the man that had every intention of keeping her a prisoner, at least until he'd had second thoughts after hearing what had happened to his son and realized he would need her help to get revenge. Well, he blew that option. Arcene wondered what had happened, she hadn't had the chance to delve deep enough into his mind to find out, now it was too late.

  They walked back into the shade of the closest alley and wove their way south, away from the city, the madness, and all that was wrong with the few people left alive on the planet.

  Why can't I meet the nice people instead of all the stupid and nasty ones?

  Arcene's belly rumbled; Leel saw a pigeon and chased after it.

  "Ugh, I hate pigeon." Arcene's belly rumbled again. "Go get it Leel, it's better than nothing."

  Leel ran faster. The pigeon flapped up onto a lamppost and Leel stood at the bottom barking, telling it to come down and take what was coming to it. It hadn't ever worked yet but if Leel was one thing then she was an optimist.

  "Come on Leel, let's leave this stinking place. First, I guess we have one more thing to do."

  Arcene stared down at the broken body of Beamer, the smile lost forever, the chance to be a man taken away from him. Could she be blamed for his death? Did she do the wrong thing by walking away when they'd released her?

  She had thought she was doing the right thing, leaving without exacting revenge, as she'd felt Drem's acceptance that he'd done wrong, but that didn't atone for what he'd already done to her and girls much more innocent. The warped reasoning he'd used to justify to himself and his son why it was acceptable to take and enslave young girls still lingered. Unforgivable.

  No. It wasn't her fault, Drem had acted out of selfishness when he released her. He needed her help to get revenge on the people that had taken his son, just like he'd taken the daughters of other parents. He got what he deserved; Arcene was justified in her actions.

  But Beamer? He was just a kid, didn't know what he was doing, not really.

  He'd been brought up in a way that meant he was even more isolated than would usually be the case. His mind had been twisted, his immature brain would have accepted what his father told him as the truth. But he'd rebelled, run away, so Arcene knew he was strong enough to grow into a fine young man — given the opportunity.

  Now he never would.

  She'd left his father alive so he stood a chance in the world and look what the result was.

  Did that mean killing Drem was wrong? Surely his morals were down to his upbringing, the values instilled in him? Where did you draw the line? People had to be held accountable for their own actions at some point, so what was the cut-off? Nine? Ten? Fifteen like her forever-young body and mind?

  "Ugh, it doesn't matter. He wasn't a nice man, and this is proof enough of that. I should have killed him the minute he showed himself when I was in the prison, then Beamer would be alive."

  Arcene shut down as much emotion as she could, which wasn't easy. It was impossible to not grieve for Beamer, but she held her emotions in check as firmly as if she was hanging on to a ledge, feet dangling into nothingness. It didn't work. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, sniffling and staring at his broken body.

  She replayed what happened in her mind, going over it one last time, watching as if through Drem's eyes as she brought to the fore the visions she had seen in Drem's head before she chopped it off for his wickedness.

  It had happened almost as soon as she'd left.

  Drem had been in shock over what Arcene had done to him, how she'd entered his mind and taken control so easily, or at least threatened too.

  Once she'd left, his anger rose and he'd shouted at Beamer, asking why he hadn't warned of what Arcene was capable of. Poor Beamer had instantly switched from being happy that his father would give them a new life to a cowering child — terrified. That must have been what he was like all the time, when Drem shouted at him over the years, almost but not quite breaking his indomitable spirit.

  Drem was unable to contain himself, shouting and lashing out at things, rampaging through the cabbage patch, kicking at the heads like they were Arcene's, or maybe Beamer's. He moaned to Beamer about the boy not deserving to have a new life if this was the thanks he would get for all the hard work he'd already done, and all he would do. Did he take him for an idiot?

  Beamer had hunched his shoulders, kept his eyes downcast and mumbled that he loved his father, but Drem was having none of it.

  He called Beamer a fool and a coward, but something must have switched in Beamer's head and he stood up taller and shouted that he wasn't a coward. He could look after himself.

  Then it all went very wrong.

  Drem was shouting he was a coward, a baby and a terrible son for allowing such a girl into their presence — he had been told repeatedly that they couldn't be trusted, and then accused Beamer of lying about his capture at the castle: Arcene probably saved him from that too.

  Beamer shouted that he wasn't a liar and he wasn't a coward. He jumped onto the ledge.

  "See? See? I'm not a coward, I'm a good boy, and I'm brave."

  Drem had felt shock, and worry, realizing just how far he'd pushed Beamer.

  It was too late. Drem watched in horror as a gust of wind tussled his son's hair, pulled at his clothes and then he fell.

  There wasn't even any screaming.

  Beamer really was brave.

  He lay fifty-five stories below, bones shattered, head caved in.

  Dead.

  "Goodbye Beamer. I'm sorry."

  Leel bent and licked his face, one of her extra-special slurpy ones.

  Arcene didn't even consider burying him, new life would be born from the old. The starving parents of a wolf cub watched from behind rusting remains of a bus across the street. She could sense their minds in The Noise, knew they were half-starved, too weak to attack her for the food. Once she was gone they would feast and life would contin
ue for another generation.

  It was as it should be.

  The wind changed direction and Leel sensed the watchers.

  "No Leel, you leave them be. They're just hungry, like the rest of us. Hungry and scared. But they have each other, and so do we. Let's go."

  They left the city.

  Sad Farewells

  Arcene knew her reaction to Drem's words may have been rather rash, but the fury rose fast, the attitude so annoying and rude that she'd acted without thinking. But it wasn't his words that had caused him to forfeit his life, it was what he'd done since Arcene and Leel had left.

  He'd killed Beamer.

  His own son. He'd killed him, maybe not directly, but the result was the same. The end of the young boy's life, and how Drem spoke and acted, meant she held no remorse for what she did.

  She thought about it as she sat beside the fire, lit easily with one of the new lighters she'd picked up as they left the city, munching on the tiny bones of a squirrel that was nowhere near enough to fill her up, let alone when shared between her and Leel.

  Arcene had seen it the minute Drem had spoken, although she was still cross with herself for not staying alert and feeling his approach through The Noise, something she could easily do if she remembered to focus on her Awoken state rather than getting distracted by shiny things all the time.

  Anyway, that didn't matter now, did it? It was done. Over.

  She'd seen what happened as if she was a real witness to the event, saw the deed and the outcome as Drem made his presence known. She looked into the mind of the man, everything revealed in a split-second, time losing meaning, as she could move through it as slow or as fast as she wished.

  Drem saw it all and knew, knew as he spoke he would never see another day.

  Some things were unforgivable in life, the only answer was death.

  Arcene's thoughts darkened as the day faded. The fire warmed her but her heart stayed cold. Was it normal to not feel the deaths as a gut-wrenching awfulness? Or was she normal in that she chose not to allow the pain to consume her?

  What was normal anyway?

  "Well, you wanted adventure Arcene, now you have it."

  The fire roared, pumping out the heat. Leel sat next to her, panting like she'd been running all day, but refusing to move further away as that would be like admitting defeat, and besides, she had to watch Arcene in case she dropped what little food remained.

  The city had been nothing but a letdown, as such places usually were, but there was no denying she'd had an exciting few days, made and lost friends, experienced both sides of the human mind and heart — all it was though was sad.

  "Why can't everyone just be nice, Leel?"

  Woof?

  "Never mind, it will never happen anyway."

  Arcene's belly rumbled. Leel lay her head on a pile of blankets and was snoring even before the sun had set. Arcene stared into the fire and wondered if she wasn't just better off staying at home, looking after her son, forgetting about the rest of the world and remaining enveloped in the warmth and familiarity of her home, family and friends. But that's not how you grow as a person, you have to feel the good, and the bad. Don't you?

  There was no answer to that question. All she knew was that she wanted to wrap her son in her arms and never let him go. But look what happened when you did that.

  No, life was for experiencing, and she had a lot more to do before she made her way back home.

  She had a castle to visit.

  A blue castle.

  Into The Void

  Beamer that was no longer Beamer entered The Void, the place that was no place, the thing that was no thing, the everything and the nothing. The Void was all there was: the energy that was no energy, the mind that was no mind, the one constant since before time and the only thing that would endure in the universes when time once again ceased to exist.

  It was the all, the place where energy came from and returned, the birth and the death of all things, where everything was as important and as unimportant as everything else. Things were equal in The Void — almost.

  The Void remembered, knew all there ever had been and all there ever would be, and the energy that made up the boy known as Beamer for a period of time, so short it was less than meaningless yet as important as the galaxies and yes, even The Void itself, was once more accepted into its cold, uncaring embrace.

  It wasn't the first time and it was far from the last, but time had no meaning in The Void and the tiny, impossibly insignificant amount of energy that was the essence of Beamer had waited sometimes days — if there had even been such a concept — sometimes many millions of years before he was reborn in one of countless life-forms on any number of planets, or circling gas giants as part of a collective that spread out and spanned billions of stars in its home galaxy before moving through the endless layers of time itself, free to roam where it wished, think thoughts that lasted longer than many suns.

  Sometimes he was granted life far into the future of those bound by the constraints of time, other times born far into the past, long before the planet he had just left had even formed.

  It was all the same, just a speck of energy in the unknowable Void — the true home.

  He came and went in a flash, over and over, born to greatness, born to be nothing more than a tiny being that lived in purple trees and never once saw the beautiful colors that shouted their beauty to a world where nothing could see and nothing had a voice to speak of such wonders. On and on it went.

  Beamer that wasn't Beamer waited for no time yet for three million years once he entered The Void, and the uncaring Void made a judgment that was not a judgment, his lives lived either past, present or future accumulated and counted, weighed for their worth, their promise, their dignity and their possible futures, and he was finally reborn.

  The newborn creature opened eyes that were not the eyes of an organic creature, rather they were eyes as large as asteroids and just as dark, eyes that were fractal in nature, able to see things yet also see through the three dimensions to what lay beneath, to see The Noise, the true nature behind the superficial surface, and deeper and deeper, understanding more than most civilizations ever would just a fraction of a second after those eyes first opened.

  Non-Beamer was as large as a moon, weighted perfectly to endlessly orbit its makers' home world, to watch over them and protect them, guide them and be their friend up in the darkness. The other eye opened and more knowledge poured into the newly born creature, its body as hard as any terrestrial body, mind as delicate and subtle as its creators', yet artificial, made not from organic matter but from their own thoughts, their own memories and their own desires.

  This creature was two eyes, impossibly large and already effecting the tides on the planet's surface far below, shaped like a tear so one eye was always on its citizens, the other watching far out into space, across the years and the very nature of reality itself.

  It was the newly created ruler, watcher, guardian and friend of the planet below, filled not with temporary matter that would decay over time, but with the minds of the billions of inhabitants on the surface below.

  They loved him, unconditionally, and always would.

  The newborn baby loved them back.

  That was all it needed. All any of them needed. Finally, they had what they had worked for over the millennia.

  They had a god that knew their minds, their thoughts, their souls, and their god loved them unconditionally. They loved their god right back.

  It's About Time

  What on earth are they doing now? Whip watched in utter amazement, although he shouldn't be surprised by anything the twins did any longer, as they picked and pruned at each other, talking animatedly and turning to the side so the other could see how they looked — they were twins after all, so if they were together they didn't really need mirrors. The only difference was that Flynn's hair was much redder than Fionn's more strawberry blond color.

  How can men one hundred and sev
enty years old be such complete imbeciles? It didn't bear thinking about. These fools had been running Castle Kenyon for so long, yet they couldn't perform the most basic of actions themselves. They were still the immature twenty-year-olds they had been when they Awoke and halted their body clocks. It was nothing to do with hormonal regulation though, Whip knew it was that they were simple, degenerate, too full of their own importance to take advice from anyone else or think about things logically for even a minute.

  For generation after twisted generation those two men were the only rulers everyone else in the castle had ever known, and they accepted it blindly — the walls were their whole world, there was nothing else, and they looked up to the twins as something to aspire to.

  What have we come to when this is what people strive for? Whip would have moaned out loud but he was hiding in the half-shadows as usual, invisible, overlooked and forgotten. Just as he liked it.

  He'd grown accustomed to his role as watcher now, it had been going on for so long, but now and then it surprised him that, as long as he was quiet, he could open a door, walk into their room, cross the floor and stand in the shadows and the twins never noticed. He was never absolutely sure how it worked — was it that they saw but it didn't register as Whip had spent so long honing how his presence showed up in The Noise, making himself a ghost, or was it that their minds were so feeble that he was exerting his influence on them so easily that it never even felt like he was putting any pressure on their minds to forget he was there?

  It didn't matter, the main thing was that he was left alone. Having to talk to them daily would have driven him mad long ago, he was in no doubt about that.

  Whip continued to watch the pantomime carrying on halfway across the room, two rulers that were having serious issues finishing dressing — they'd decided to do it themselves for a change.

  It could take hours.

  Hedgehog Delight

  Arcene stopped dead in her tracks as Leel's ears pricked up, pointing to the sky like two giant arrow heads. Straining to hear, she turned her head from side to side, loose hair blowing into her face as a slight breeze passed. Arcene suspected that while she'd been traveling her hair had grown at least a foot longer, maybe something to do with the fresh air, maybe because of all the meat she'd been eating, or maybe she needed to tighten up her focus on what was going on in her body, otherwise she might end up with her fingernails long again, something she had purposely put a stop to a long time ago — who needed the hassle?