by Al K. Line
"Let us start again," said Flynn graciously. "We apologize if we said the wrong thing, we rarely have much to say to girls. Um, women."
"Or much interest in them usually," added Fionn.
"Until now." They both smiled, confident she was happy to have their attention.
"I'm flattered." I'm not.
"Good. Now, can I get you a drink? Wine?"
"You have wine? But no, better not, I don't really like it." Arcene had sipped wine a few times — it never ended well. She got rather manic and when she got manic things got dangerous, and broken.
"If you are sure? Would you care to sit?" Flynn indicated a group of chairs arranged around what appeared to be a TV screen, the technology out of place in the antiquated room with its ancient furniture and even older walls. But then, the TV was as old as some of the furniture, just different.
"Thank you, that's kind." Be good, be polite. Arcene sat and tried not to moan when a spring stuck into her bum. She looked at the screen on the wall and wondered what they watched. If they never went outside then how much choice would they have?
"Do you like watching magic screens?" asked Fionn.
"Magic screens? Oh, yeah, sure. I've seen loads, what's your favorite? Mine is anime, I love all the crazy sword fights and the big eyes, it reminds me of all the fun I used to have and I also really like the movies where people do daft stuff like go in cellars or into the woods even though they know there are nasty people or evil creatures out to get them and they are always hiding in those kinds of places. Oh, and I love car chases, I would have loved to have been in a car when the roads weren't all overgrown and you could..." Oops.
Arcene had gotten carried away. She enjoyed watching movies and all manner of things from the vast collection at her home, but the choice she had was not the same as for others. She'd rambled, like she always did when she had the chance to talk about things that interested her.
The twins stared at her like she'd appeared from nowhere and had something wrong with her. It hadn't been that bad, had it?
"Oh, gosh, we don't have much, I don't even know what most of what you talked about means. We just have these." Flynn reached under the table and pulled out a battered box containing a TV show Arcene had watched once, and hated.
"Ooh, that's a good one, you're lucky." Arcene smiled, no point making them feel bad.
"We like it," said Fionn. "But we have little choice," he said, talking to the floor quietly.
"Hey, about this Feast," said Arcene changing the subject. "Is it really for me?"
In a flash the twins became animated, eyes alive and heads high. "Oh yes, we have everything ready. The platform is built, the food is being prepared, and we shall have the very best of times. It is all in your honor and there will be more meat than you could possibly eat."
"It will be an excellent evening," added Fionn. "We wondered when you would come but knew you would. Just not the way you did." Flynn nudged his brother who gave him a blank stare before reddening and said, "Um, now, shall we be going?"
The twins stood in a hurry and Flynn said, "Whip, time to go old man. The Feast awaits."
I knew they were watching me, I could feel it when we were outside the castle. But why didn't they let me in? They like to spy that's why. Or they are so bored that they didn't want to make it too easy. Arcene's thoughts were interrupted by the hand of Whip on her shoulder.
"Shall we?" He nodded to the door where the twins waited, smiling like two kids allowed to stay up late. Both held out a hand for Arcene.
Oh boy. "Come on Leel."
Leel got to her feet, padded past the twins at the door and walked out, ignoring them completely.
Lucky dog.
Arcene glanced at Whip before he turned to leave; he looked worried. More, he looked almost green, like he was about to vomit. He hurried out the door.
Arcene smiled, held out her hands, and took a deep breath.
It's Time to Feast
Here we go again, thought Whip, the familiar dread gripping his stomach as all around him the loud conversations died down. Chairs were scraped back noisily on the flagstones by those lucky enough to have one, while others rose from squatting positions or stood up straighter out of respect. Whip hated this aspect of castle life more with each passing year, every Feast knotting his insides tighter, the dread cutting deeper.
Why can't they just eat the damn cattle and the vegetables instead of this?
Fionn and Flynn rose from their thrones, what they liked to call thrones at any rate — Whip thought them fools to take on such airs and graces, but they looked the part, he had to admit.
Silence.
Whip struggled to keep his composure, he hadn't shown his presence at a Feast for longer than he could remember although he always attended, drawn like a moth to a flame, but he never let others see him. If he did then he would be forced to participate, to eat.
Flames danced high in the fire pit, the waiting crowd illuminated orange, to Whip a nightmare of distorted features and limbs. Hell come to earth. As the silence continued, a man with a white hood over his head, narrow slits for eyes, clapped once from his position beside the fire and wielded a long-handled metal rake as if it were a weapon.
He raked the coals. Sparks flew high into the darkness and the crowd cheered before silence descended once again.
Whip turned to watch Arcene.
She sat, transfixed by the ritual. She hid her confusion well, unless she already knew what to expect, but Whip doubted it. Castle Kenyon was a closed world, there was little chance that such a warping of a religion would have occurred outside its walls. He supposed he would find out soon enough where her loyalties lay — he knew they would not be with the twins, or the rest of the simple folk that kept the castle functioning, barely.
"Whip, what's wrong with you man?" asked Fionn. The stern voice sliced through Whip's thoughts. What had he missed? How long had Fionn been speaking?
"Excuse me Master Fionn, these old ears aren't what they used to be."
"Well, Whip, I suggest that if you wish to keep them then you pay better attention in the future. Our guest?"
Fionn smiled at Arcene, who stood as Whip said, "Lady Arcene, would you please stand?"
Arcene continued to stand and Whip waited. He wished he could say The Feast would be more brief than it usually was but he knew that was wishful thinking. It would be long; it would be nasty.
He almost faded away right then, to be forgotten and not take part, but it was too late: if he wanted the change he was so reluctant to embrace then he had to be present, interact, guide events however much he objected to them.
"Let us begin," shouted Flynn and Fionn, before each stepped back and indicated that Arcene should stand between them. She moved cautiously, her dog never once taking its eyes off the twins, although it stayed where it was after Arcene whispered, "Stay, Leel," before taking her place.
The crowd cheered, the sparks lit up the scene, the twins began their speeches and Whip groaned.
He hoped that when the night was over he would have an ally. If not then he had deeply misjudged Arcene and would have another problem to deal with rather than the help he so sorely needed.
It was time to find out.
Let There be Meat
Stood between the twins in the half-dark and staring down from the dais at the hushed, expectant crowd, Arcene felt like she was about to cast judgment on the poor creatures. She steadied herself on the less than well-built platform, the planks as worm-eaten as the furniture inside the castle. Arcene guessed they were a precious commodity indeed.
The dais was close enough to the huge fire pit for the warmth to reach her, welcome in the cool evening air. What wasn't so pleasant was the stench of burning dung and that of the crowd — they needed to wash more often.
Makeshift chairs, benches and stools were arranged rather haphazardly in a circle around the pit, spreading out from where she stood with the twins, Whip, Leel and a few others important enough to b
e introduced to. All of them wore clothes that would have once been called fine but were now well past their best — that didn't stop the owners from puffing their chests out and looking down their noses at those below, caught up in their sense of self-importance and preening like peacocks for the watching masses.
Where's the food? Arcene stared at the bare tables made of more rough planks, bits of pipe tied together, scraps of metal and other pieces of salvage from the castle — she was sure one rather strange looking table was made from bone. But they were empty, not a morsel of food was to be seen. What was going on?
Then it began.
From her position between the twins she felt their energy build, felt the excitement ripple through the crowd as they smiled at their doting people.
"We are gathered for The Feast," roared Flynn, as the crowd erupted into cheers and shouts. He held up a hand and they were silent. "We owe it to Him to give thanks for the life we are fortunate to have, and we, as loyal subjects, never shrink from our duty. We shall give of ourselves so He knows we are His children and follow the traditions of thousands of years. The Feast." The crowd went wild, shouting and cheering, stomping their feet and banging the tables, a few of which collapsed. There was rather a lot of raising of hands; the only thing Arcene raised were her eyebrows.
Fionn took up where his brother left off. "Since the first day at Castle Kenyon our father, the founder of the new order, gave thanks for the gift given to him and those that followed him to safety behind these walls. He upheld the traditions of the past, and the people flourished. We continue those traditions to this day, giving thanks and ensuring that Castle Kenyon endures. We work hard and we always have, and that is as it should be, but we must also enjoy the fruits of our labor, so, without further ado—" Fionn was interrupted by Flynn tapping him on the shoulder. He whispered something and Fionn nodded.
"Of course, I could never forget why this is such an important occasion and will be the best Feast Castle Kenyon has ever seen. We have a very special guest, from the outside." Fionn waited while the "oohs" and "aahs" died down as the crowd all admired Arcene. This was way more attention than she liked, and the feeling of something bad about to happen grew as the speech continued.
"Arcene is our guest of honor and for her we have more volunteers than I can ever recall. We give thanks to Him for the generosity of you all and we pray she decides to stay with us and help us be better than we have ever been. To thrive and to breathe new life into the castle. May we flourish for thousands of years. Amen."
"Amen," came the chorus from the crowd.
Oh boy, this will not go well. What kind of religion have they made for themselves? What does this all mean?
The twins sat; Arcene was standing alone. She caught Whip's eye, who nodded for her to sit too, which she did thankfully.
Flynn clapped. The Feast began.
Arcene suffered the mindless chatter of the twins, no chance of escape. Conversation, if it could be called that, consisted mostly of them not wanting to wait much longer for the food to arrive and that they wished they could burn something apart from dried dung to make the barbecue — Arcene couldn't argue with that. They wittered on, probably going over the same issues they had a thousand times before, agreeing that as nice as it would be to burn real wood it simply wasn't possible for The Feast: the fire was too greedy.
They repeatedly asked Arcene how she was, told her she looked lovely and squirmed in their chairs when they said something Arcene took issue with and gave them one of those looks.
She tried to move away from the twins but found it impossible: they insisted she stayed between them. She glanced at Whip, silently pleading with him to help her, but he shrugged his shoulders — it was out of his hands.
The food arrived, each course greeted with cheers and the sounds of a thousand bent forks or spoons scraping cracked plates, pieces of metal or slate, as it was devoured greedily.
On and on it went. Arcene found herself relaxing in the atmosphere of the warm fire, the background chatter below, and the food she had to admit was rather delicious, if simple.
It was how she liked it. She wasn't interested in fancy meals or unnecessary garnishes, she preferred her food plain and well-cooked: hot, sticky and juicy. The only thing that ruined her enjoyment was the constant preoccupation with the damn dress. She dared not spill food, it was too pretty and rare, so she had to lean forward rather awkwardly to eat, and constantly caught herself almost wiping her hands down the front of the delicate fabric.
The first course was served by a group of very proud looking shepherds, although from what Arcene gathered they didn't so much shepherd as leave the sheep to it most of the time. The men were charged with ensuring the meat was the best it could be, and that meant going outside the walls occasionally to check on the grass, deal with the fences and assorted other tasks — they were held in the highest regard, almost in awe by the twins and everyone else for their ability to step outside the walls and not be tainted by the poison air. They seemed to all believe it would infect the minds of anyone but the line of shepherds that had passed down the protection over generations.
They served delicately cooked cutlets that were delicious, although the portions were tiny and Arcene had worried she would go hungry until the twins began their chatter in earnest, telling her that there would be countless courses before the main meal even began.
Their eyes twinkled in the orange light as they mentioned the main course. Arcene couldn't wait.
Next came goat's cheese and a dried cracker with seeds sprinkled on top — tasty and delicate. Then there were baked parsnips, then sweet peppers drizzled with canola oil, followed by a tiny sliver of beef, bringing gasps from the crowd as they savored every tiny bite — beef was a real treat, they had it only once or twice a year as the animals were so valuable, the milk so precious, the males needed for breeding.
Cups appeared, full of cow's milk, creamy and thick, followed by pigeon breast. Then a handful of the tiniest potatoes Arcene had ever eaten, roasted to perfection, swimming in butter, chunks of garlic and sprigs of rosemary.
On and on it went. Arcene was in heaven.
The twins wished to talk in private, but Arcene suspected it was more to do with the fact that Leel kept nudging them out of the way to get to the food on the table and take scraps from Arcene that led them to ask if she wouldn't mind sitting to Fionn's left, next to Whip, while they discussed important castle matters.
Arcene was more than happy to oblige — they were the most boring dinner companions she had ever encountered, and they kept talking to her when all she wanted to do was eat and soak up the party atmosphere.
"I see you are enjoying The Feast, Arcene," said Whip, looking uncomfortable as he pushed the softest pork Arcene had ever tasted around his bowl with his fork without eating.
Arcene tried to calm her mood, she was hyped and content. Food, and plenty of it, knowing there was more to come, did that to her every time. "You aren't? This is amazing Whip, all this food, all these happy faces. What could be better?"
"We should chat later my dear, or maybe tomorrow. Things are not as they seem, as you will find out soon enough. All this food you see before you results from a lot of hard work but The Feast does not happen every day, although it still happens more than I would like, which is never."
"Okay." Arcene was at a loss, what was wrong with him? This was good, wasn't it?
Whip sighed. "You don't understand. Most days the people eat sparsely. Rice and vegetables are given every morning here in the square, and if you miss it that's it, no second chance. You wait until the next day."
"That seems fair, everyone gets a share. It must be hard to keep people fed when you, you know, won't go outside the walls. There's plenty out there Whip, if you went outside then you would never go hungry."
"But I can't. I tried once and felt like I would die. No, my place is here, as is everyone else's. The air is poison out there, the open spaces do things to your mind and send you
funny."
"I'm from out there and look at me." Arcene smiled her best smile. "There's nothing wrong with me is there?"
"I meant no disrespect Arcene, I apologize if it came across that way. But you have to understand, ever since we first came to the castle, when the twins' father did, with those that followed him, everyone has stayed inside. Over the years the outside has become off-limits. We have myths, legends, even a religion that discourages it, but even if people want to leave they can't. It is too ingrained into their minds to even consider it, not that any of them do."
"Because they are all a bit simple, right?"
"As you say. They are so inbred they accept their lives blindly, and they accept the warped religion that has built up over the years. It's just the way things are. The twins' father started it all, warping a faith that many in the country once followed, turning it into something obscene. Now nobody knows any better. They love it actually, think they are doing something a higher power, God, wants them to do. It makes me sick."
"Whip, I've seen strange religions before, you must have heard of The Eventuals, right?" Whip nodded. "I saw their leader, I was there at the end. I saw how they twisted faith and what they did, all of this seems harmless in comparison. Just a little odd."
"It may be harmless to those on the other side, but trust me, it is not harmless to those within the walls."
"Tell me."
"It's too late for that, it's about to start." Whip gulped, turning to stare at the fire pit.
Arcene realized that the courtyard had grown silent, nobody was eating or talking, even the children Arcene had wondered about were silenced by parents as The Raker of The Coals, as the twins had told her was his title, wielded his rake once again and stirred embers into life. Heat radiated out over rapt faces as everyone stood and the twins lifted their arms into the air and gazed up at the sky, faces slick with sweat and grease.
Arcene automatically put a hand out to stroke Leel, her head higher than Arcene's as she was sat down, so she raised her arm and stroked the fur then frowned: her hand felt sticky. She realized she must have been wiping her greasy hands on the poor dog's head without even thinking.
