by Al K. Line
Oops, sorry Leel.
There was no time to think about Leel's greasy head though, the twins were speaking, almost in a whisper, the sound carried through the silence, interrupted only by the crackle of the coals.
"Time for the main course," said the twins in unison.
"Time for the main course," echoed back the crowd.
Snick. Snick. Snick...
Knives, scissors, slivers of glass and steel were drawn and held high in the air.
Then the screaming started.
The Main Course
Arcene gripped Whip's bony upper arm tight, not noticing the wince of pain as she dug her fingers in so hard he'd have a nasty bruise the next day. "Do something Whip, do something! They're chopping bits off each other. Off themselves! Stop them!"
"I can't," said Whip quietly. "If I tried then I'd be dead. This is what The Feast is all about, and this is an extra special one. In your honor." The words came out as a hiss, but it wasn't an accusation directed at Arcene, it was for the twins, who watched in delight as blood spurted and screams filled the night sky.
Arcene stood transfixed as the insanity continued in front of her. The glow from the fire twisted already gnarled and misshapen limbs into grotesque parodies of humanity. People smiled and clapped with glee as their neighbors sliced off ears, placed hands flat on tables and chopped down hard with axes on their own fingers or those of their loved ones.
Others took it one stage further, so caught up in the moment were they, taking off first a finger, then two, then cajoling others to pin them down and hack away at bone, amputating limbs and watching half-crazed with pain and blood loss as arms, hands, feet and more were taken up by the screaming crowd only to be flung onto the coals where they sizzled, crackled and spat.
The Wielder of The Rake, hood now black with soot, carefully and attentively arranged the more delicate offerings of flesh, such as ears or fingers, onto racks or moved limbs in the coals, turning them and shifting them to either hot or cool spots depending on what his expertise dictated.
A barbecue of human flesh. But this was no cannibalism as Arcene had ever encountered or heard of, this was voluntary, tradition, the giving of themselves for their religion, for the greater good of the community.
How had this happened? How had they sunk so low to think this was right? Arcene couldn't even begin to come to terms with such a warping of all she took for granted in the world.
"This is why I don't eat meat," said Whip almost casually, as he leaned in close, sour breath assaulting her nostrils. "Now do you see why I warned you?"
"Warned me!? You didn't say a word about this. It's disgusting. What is wrong with them all?"
"It's tradition. It's what they think is right and nobody has done anything but encourage them. I tried once, to stop it. I almost lost my life doing so. The twins' father, Finn, he threatened to have me roasted alive when I tried to reason with him. It was no use, everything was too far gone by then. Now it's a part of their faith, part of who they are."
"They're cannibals! They're going to eat it, aren't they? Eat themselves, eat each other."
"Oh yes, they most certainly are."
Arcene watched as the flesh was sorted, other masked men moving close to the barbecue and arranging the smaller pieces onto platters, slicing up meat into small chunks, chopping through bone.
The main course began.
Arcene was about to shout at the twins, tell them they were out of their minds, that they were abominations and should be held responsible, when Whip grabbed her hard, his grip surprising. "Don't even think about it," he said, his face straining to keep calm, fighting his own inner demons. "If you so much as say a wrong word now then it'll be you on the barbecue, or bits of you anyway. And I don't imagine they will think twice about your dog."
Arcene looked at Leel, who had sunk down to the floor away from the madness, whining quietly to herself under the table — she knew what was happening, understood it and wanted no part in it either.
"I can't just let this carry on," protested Arcene. "I can't be a part of this."
"Sit down," ordered Whip. "You can, and you will. There is nothing to be done now. We will speak tomorrow. Do not say a word to them, this is part of who we are here, there is no getting away from it. You think a stranger can change their minds, just like that? No, of course not, so keep quiet and do not cross them today. They may act like little children but when it comes to The Feast, well, it is all any of them have ever known. It goes back a long way Arcene, you can't change it with a few words."
He was right. What would she achieve by blurting out how insane it all was? Nothing but another course for the masses. She sat, unable to take her eyes off the slowly cooking limbs, the ears and fingers that were already placed on the table in front of her, little crispy bits of ear lobe and knuckles of lumpy female fingers steaming and crackling, golden brown and disgusting.
No wonder he won't eat meat. It's more of a reason than Beamer's dad had, that's for sure.
Beamer, poor Beamer. She believed she had found a friend in the young boy and she supposed that in some ways she had: it wasn't his fault, he'd been warped just like these poor souls. Was there no end to the madness?
Arcene wished she'd stayed at home. Adventure was one thing, this was something else entirely. You could have too much of a good thing and Castle Kenyon had delivered more than she had ever bargained for. And then some.
Arcene was interrupted by the encouraging smile of Flynn as he nudged her to get her attention.
"Isn't it wonderful Arcene? Look how generous the people are this evening, how much they give of themselves to celebrate your presence amongst us and to continue the faith. They are so good really, although we do moan I know, but He will be most happy with the gifts they have given this night, most happy."
It wasn't real, it couldn't be. Arcene watched in a daze as Flynn picked up an ear and crunched on it, smiling like he'd seen an angel as he munched on the chewy morsel then picked up what Arcene was sure was a big toe. He nodded at the platter, encouraging her to help herself — she almost jabbed him in the throat with her fingers and put an end to his life right there and then.
But then what? Whip was right: she couldn't kill every last one of them, could she? No, so they would mob her, kill her, or roast her alive. Leel too.
"Please, help yourself," said Fionn, leaning over, not wishing to be left out of the conversation or let his brother have all of Arcene's attention. He lifted the platter to her face then shook it slightly so the meat rattled. A slice of something, smooth and terrible, bounced off and fell to the floor.
Arcene panicked — no way did she want Leel to eat human flesh. She needn't have worried. As she looked down Leel jumped up, sniffed the at first glance tasty treat, then nudged it away with her nose until it fell through a crack in the boards and disappeared.
She is the best dog in the whole world.
Knowing she had little choice, Arcene did the only thing she could: she picked up a finger, smiled sweetly, and said, "Thank you Fionn," which resulted in a scowl at his brother from Flynn for getting her attention.
What now? No way was she going to eat it. No way.
A shriek from below saved her having to do anything drastic as the twins became distracted. She dropped the finger between her legs and down onto the boards; Leel nudged it into the void like before — she really was the best dog ever.
Arcene watched as a woman was cradled in the arms of a man and hurried away into the night as blood spouted from her stump of an arm like the fountain in the city. Arcene wondered how they survived such catastrophic wounds, there didn't seem to be much in the way of knowledge amongst the people so she doubted there were either doctors, the necessary equipment or drugs, to stop them from dying rather quickly.
"Don't worry," said Flynn, turning back to face her, "she'll be fine."
"Fine? Really?" Arcene couldn't think of anything else to say. What was there to say to such a flippant remark about
someone who had chopped off their own hand then flung it into the fire happily?
"Oh yes," interrupted Fionn. "They make a bit of a song and dance about it but they always pull through. She'll be back to work in a few days."
"What!? How? She's just cut her hand off."
"Because it is His will, that's how, Arcene. Our people are strong, they recover. They have some type of special drink, it sets them right in no time. I'm not sure what's in it," said Fionn with a frown, "but it works wonders. It's the breeding you know, they are stubborn creatures if a little dim. They're like... well, I'm not sure what they're like, but it doesn't do them any harm, and besides, it is what He asks for, how it has always been, even before Father came to Castle Kenyon and claimed ownership. This is religion Arcene," lectured Fionn, "it goes back thousands of years. People did it to be closer to Him, to show they don't hold their bodies in higher regard than Him."
These people are twisted in the head. Arcene had read about various religions over the years, some of it she could relate to, other bits not in the slightest, but she was sure that none of them called for the chopping off of bits of your own body and chucking them on a fire then letting others eat them. Of that she was certain. What would be the point? You'd end up with no arms and then how would you eat or do anything? The logic escaped her.
The next course arrived.
On and on it went, each platter served more macabre than the last.
Some bits looked half-raw, others as crispy as the coals they were cooked on, but nobody seemed to mind. Everyone was in a trance: part religious ecstasy, part overfeeding, was all Arcene could assume. It never ended. People stuffed their faces with meat, juices of other human beings running down their chins while those that had given of themselves enjoyed eating their neighbors as much as they enjoyed being eaten themselves.
Finally, the main course arrived. Men struggled under the weight of roast arms and legs on massive trays they carried from table to table — people sliced pieces off or groups shared a limb.
Fionn and Flynn shared a plump forearm between them, talking excitedly about how tender the fat was, how it melted in their mouths — Arcene tried not to be sick. Whip had no such luck and discreetly vomited several times, but he never excused himself, he stayed. Arcene could tell he wasn't used to being quite so involved at The Feast. When immersed in The Noise he probably staved off the smell and the overpowering effects of the meat, but now he was fully present it was too much for him. She wondered why she didn't retch but realized she had gone deep into herself, shut down or subdued her senses so she could remain at the feasting table without going crazy and shouting at the top of her lungs that they were all insane, then leaving.
How could she get away? She had to leave, that was certain, and as soon as possible. If she spent another day within the walls she would surely be wielding her sword and trying to knock sense into whoever she happened to leave alive.
"Enjoy," shouted the twins, as they stood and wiped their mouths on their sleeves.
"Hurray," came the cry from their subjects.
"We will leave you now to enjoy the rest of the evening. Remember, we give to Him so we may save ourselves and do His work."
Finally! At least it means I can go too.
"Arcene, would you care to join us in our chambers for a drink?" asked Fionn with hope.
Damn!
"Um, er, I'm sleepy, it's been a long day." Arcene noted their disappointment, anger too, so quickly added, "But I would be delighted if you escorted me back to my room."
With that they perked up a little, although it wasn't exactly what they wanted to hear. Both held out a greasy hand which Arcene took, politely ignoring what she touched.
Whip rose and said, "I shall lead the way. No need for you to hold a torch yourselves."
"Good man Whip, off you go then."
Arcene called to Leel and they left the dais to cheers from mouths full of flesh. Soon they were swallowed up by the welcome darkness of the castle's interior, lit only by the burning torch Whip took from the entrance.
Half an hour of goodbyes and more goodbyes later, while Arcene fought the urge to dash into her room, grab her sword and chop off their heads, she finally closed the door to her quarters and leaned against the thick wood.
Her head spun like she'd been on the Merry-Go-Round again, and her stomach gurgled. She fought against the gag reflex and wondered how it was possible for people to inflict such punishment on themselves, let alone be happy to do so.
The power of the mind, people can do anything.
What should she do? How best to help these people? Could they be helped?
The answer was no. Traditions that went back hundreds of years, were as much a part of the people as breathing itself, would not be changed by one person. Her attempts would be futile at best, maybe cause more harm than good.
She had to leave.
In the morning, I'll leave in the morning.
Arcene staggered over to the bed in a daze, noting that Leel was already asleep in front of the fire. She changed her mind and joined her sleeping friend, curled up tight against her gurgling belly and was asleep before she had the chance to think another thought.
An Explanation
Arcene awoke to the sound of her own snoring and wondered where her arm had gone. She couldn't feel it and surprised herself that she didn't panic. Memories of the previous evening flooded back and then the calm vanished, replaced with horror. Maybe someone had stolen her limb after she fell asleep, the crowd Feasting on her flesh while she was curled up by the fire with Leel.
They wouldn't, would they? Yes, they would, they ate their friends and family. She was a stranger.
Fearing the worst, Arcene opened her eyes to find herself staring at Leel's copious belly. She tried to move but couldn't, only to realize that her arm was still attached: it was numb because somehow Leel had rolled onto it and cut off the circulation.
Better a numb arm than no arm.
"Come on Leel you big fat lump, shift it. I need a pee."
Woof?
"I know you're sleepy but tough, you have to move. Come on, I'm stuck." Leel rolled away from Arcene and she got to her feet, staring down at the dress, now covered in Leel's blue/gray fur and very creased. She tried to straighten it out by brushing at it, but all that did was make it worse. Giving it up as a lost cause, and anyway it wasn't her fault as who wears white to a barbecue? Arcene tried to remember where the bathroom was. Was there one? Did they have proper plumbing and flushing toilets?
She opened and closed a few doors, coming across nothing but closets and small empty rooms, until she found the bathroom. It was basic, but she cleaned herself up a little, had a welcome pee, and changed into freshly laundered clothes she found on her bed. They smelled of smoke where they must have been dried overnight before being put into her room for her that morning.
The socks and vest were still a little warm from their drying, feeling luxurious and comfortable after the formality of the previous evening's wear.
There was a nervousness that drifted away, probably as she couldn't believe she had forgotten to lock her door, but she was still alive and whole. Arcene felt normal again, herself and in control.
Almost.
For the first time in years she had no urge to eat breakfast — a sure sign that something wasn't right at all. Arcene frowned at the break with her personal tradition, almost allowing herself to panic when she wondered if it would put her off meat for good. What would she do then?
The thought soon passed. The Feast may have been despicable and sickening, but it had confirmed her desire to spend as little time at the castle as possible, not never eat again.
I need to find Whip, I can't leave without getting to the bottom of all this. Why would these people allow those idiot twins to run their lives, and so badly? And why do they think chopping themselves up into bits is a good idea? They're mad. Absolutely bonkers.
Leel snored; Arcene packed.
Though
ts swirled around her head like blood dissolving in a fountain, drifting, lapping at the shores of her awareness, trying to tell her something, but she didn't know what.
She shivered, even though the fire warmed the room nicely — Margaret must have come in and added wood when she dropped off the laundry. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so odd? Ah, that was it: he was here. She didn't need to look, she could sense him through The Noise without having to search.
"You can come out Whip, don't hide like a ghost."
Whip stepped from the shadows beside the fireplace, solidifying as he moved into the warm glow. Leel growled at him in her sleep, senses still acute, then curled up tighter and resumed her snoring.
Stupid dog. I could be getting eaten by him and she'd stay asleep. Arcene knew that wasn't true, but still...
"Sorry to intrude, and please excuse my lack of manners Arcene. I'm so used to going where I please without the need to consider other people I am afraid it has become rather a habit."
"I'm not other people, and I don't like spies." Realization hit Arcene. "Oh no, did you watch me get changed? Are you a pervert, Whip? Do you hide and peek at naked girls and watch them go to the bathroom. Ugh." Arcene reached for the sword, now strapped to her back and comforting her as it should. Had she sensed he was there without thinking it? She didn't normally wear her sword in her room.
"Gosh, no, I'm so sorry Arcene. Of course not. I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. Actually I came in while you were in the bathroom, but I meant no disrespect. You have my sincerest apologies."
"Hmm." Arcene removed her hand from the sword hilt, even though it pained her to release the comfort of the cold steel. "Okay mister, we need to talk. Why didn't you tell me how nuts everyone is here? And you, you have issues, you do know that, right?" Arcene stared hard at Whip. She hoped she was getting across how insane she felt he and the twins were. What was wrong with him? He was a sensible sounding man yet he lived a life beyond the realms of madness.
