by Al K. Line
Margaret walked a few paces behind, face blotchy and glowing, proud of her larger, and single-armed dress, green in contrast to Arcene's. She held a small bunch of flowers in front of her like she had won the best prize in the world. The poor woman was in shock when Arcene asked if she would be her bridesmaid, curtsying and gushing her thanks until Arcene had to tell her to go and get a dress, and not to let anyone tell her she couldn't take her pick from the small collection of pristine garments watched over with eagle-eyes by a grumpy old woman known rather unimaginatively as The Watcher of Clothes.
Margaret had returned in tears, without a dress, so Arcene made the trip herself, finally convincing the woman Margaret wasn't trying to steal anything, but had been told by the woman's future queen to pick a nice outfit as she was to be her bridesmaid. Even then the woman had been sullen, but Margaret got what she wanted and had been happy ever since.
Arcene cut a very imposing figure. The dress she wore was sleeveless, her toned arms exposed, the skin appearing paler than normal against the blood-red fabric. A high collar wrapped around her throat, making her appear even more waif-like. Delicate material clung to her upper body and hips like honey, then flared out below the knee before it draped to the ground and beyond at the rear. The entire creation was a work of art, an homage to expert craftsmanship, sewn by hand over three hundred years ago from fine thread, intricate patterns of swirls and flowers making up the dress as a whole.
There was no doubt it was beautiful. The only thing that made Arcene look somewhat unconventional were the black socks with pink bunnies, her usual boots, and the sword strapped tight to her back. She had refused point-blank to take it off when Margaret shuddered and told her it wasn't exactly what a bride-to-be should wear. Even Whip, when he came to check on her, suggested she reconsider as it was rather unconventional attire for a wedding. He was just making noise though, still acting the coward as far as Arcene was concerned — he knew all too well that Arcene needed her sword, or hoped she would.
Arcene calmed her mind and body as the crowd grew while she walked along an open walkway leading down to the fields. The gaggle hushed as the massive "likeness" of Arcene came into view, their appreciation of her replaced with quiet chatter about the idol.
Sickness threatened to overwhelm her, so Arcene went deep inside herself and let each muscle relax, calmed her mind then shut off her emotions — she was the lady in red. Vengeance. Death. Salvation.
She led the way to the edge of the trampled wheat field, nothing but flattened stubs remaining and a few broken stalks crushed against the earth like broken dreams. Ahead, at the base of the idol, stood the twins, chins held high, smiling like the mindless fools they were. Behind them stood Whip, the master of ceremonies, the man who would marry them. Spread out in a semicircle were those deemed worthy enough to stand close to their leaders and their new queen.
The sun was high and hot; she could see beads of sweat on the twins' foreheads, glistening like diamonds — Arcene was as cool as those most precious of stones. Ice flowed through her veins, her thoughts as hard and cold as the ocean was deep. Her heart beat slow, lifetimes passed between each gentle and regular thump, thump, thump.
Arcene shrugged and stepped into the field.
"Ugh, eh?" She was pulled to a halt almost immediately. She turned, ready to deal with the menace, only to find the dress had caught on the brittle, golden stalks. She tugged it until it was free, then Margaret sensibly lifted the material and the procession continued.
A grin became impossible to contain, and Arcene watched as the twins shifted then smiled wider, believing their bride-to-be was happy. Arcene was smiling about the fact she was in a wedding dress and supposed to be getting married. How strange. Absurd.
Before she knew it she found herself next to the twins; each held out a hand to her. Hiding her disgust she held them; they were clammy, slimy like slugs, soft and bony at the same time.
"You look beautiful," said Fionn.
"Lovely," agreed Flynn.
"Thank you. You both look very handsome."
The twins turned to each other and admired themselves, knowing they looked identical in their dark jackets and green shirts that set off their perfect hair nicely.
When they had finished preening and idolizing each other Fionn said, "Is that really necessary?" pointing at the sword.
"Yes," was all Arcene could manage in reply.
They frowned but said no more, probably thinking they would lose face if they caused a scene in front of so many people. Nobody even noticed the backpack strapped tightly to Leel.
"Ahem." Whip cleared his throat to get their attention. "Whenever we are ready, we can proceed."
"Ah, good man Whip. I think we are more than ready, don't you brother?"
"Absolutely Flynn, let's get married."
What about me? I don't suppose they care. You'd think they were marrying each other.
The twins turned to face Whip properly, releasing Arcene so she could stand between them. Each moved closer in an attempt to outdo the other until she had to nudge them away a little with her elbows with a demure, "Excuse me."
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to join... er, these men and this woman in holy matrimony. If..."
Arcene zoned out, the words meaningless, the whole marriage a sham. Pointless.
"Eh? What?" Arcene focused. The twins were staring at her and Whip was nodding his head vigorously.
"I said, do you Arcene Robideaux take these men to be your lawful wedded husbands?"
Arcene turned her head slowly to stare first at Whip, then Fionn, then Flynn. As if she had all the time in the world, she raised her head and stared up at the huge construction, the ragged likeness of her towering over everything. She focused on the head then her gaze lowered until she fixed eyes as pale as water on a man stood next to the left leg of an insult to life with a burning torch, ready to light the structure the moment the wedding was completed.
She raised her head once more, shielding her eyes against the sun as she stared at the tiny child on top of the head, tied tight to the spike. He was two years old at the most, face soaked with tears, legs shaking terribly. But he made no sound — the gag ensured he didn't interrupt the ceremony below. It was so strange, too surreal. Arcene noticed that running from the gag all the way to the ground was a length of cord, held by another man.
She could only assume that once the structure was set ablaze the cord would be pulled and the gag released, all the better to hear the boy's screams and let Him hear the sacrifice made in His name.
It was all Arcene needed to see to know she was following the right path.
"Arcene?" prompted Fionn.
"What's wrong?" asked Flynn. "You have to say yes, then we are married."
"No."
The crowd gasped. Fionn and Flynn stared at her, uncomprehending.
"Haha, you silly girl. Whip asked if you took us to be your husbands." Fionn glanced nervously at his brother.
"I said no."
"You don't understand, you can't say no," said Flynn.
"I can and I did." Arcene ignored them and walked to the base of the figure. She stepped up close to the man holding the flaming torch, then reached out and took it from him.
The man didn't resist, he was too confused to do anything but stand there, open-mouthed. Arcene put the torch on the floor and stamped on it, then to the shock of the crowd she gathered up the train of the dress and tore it off. The huge gathering gasped as one, watching in confusion as Arcene placed the material over the smoking torch and stomped on it some more. Satisfied it was out, she turned back to the shocked man and said, "You'd burn little children alive, would you?"
"Wh... what!?" The man couldn't get his words out, he had no idea what was happening.
"I said were you going to burn that child up there alive?"
"It's the sacrifice," he stuttered as way of explanation.
Arcene stared at him, eyes unblinking, then occupied his mind
for a split-second before she retreated. Utterly calm, and giving no indication of what she would do as the crowd stared and the twins watched in utter confusion, Arcene stabbed out with an open hand at the man's throat, finger's jabbing deep into his Adam's apple.
The man clutched at his throat in shock then dropped to the floor, gurgling and croaking as his face turned red then purple. The crowd screamed.
Arcene stared directly at the shocked twins.
"The wedding's off."
Single Again
"What are you doing?" shouted Flynn, as he tugged at his hair so nervously he yanked a curl out. He stared at it between his fingers in shock.
"You're our wife," shouted Fionn. He stomped his foot as if it would make everything all right and the ceremony would continue.
The crowd remained silent, the man Arcene had attacked making the only sound as he gave a final croak then died.
Arcene ignored them and walked to Whip. "Get the boy down, and get those children out of that factory. If anyone else wants clothes made from the rags you people seem to enjoy wearing then they can make their own, not starve children and shackle them to machines like animals. Do I make myself clear?"
Whip nodded.
"Answer me, Whip, you would do well to tread carefully at the moment. In case you hadn't noticed, I am not in the best of moods."
"Yes. Thank you Arcene. And them?" He turned to the twins.
"Oh, I know exactly what to do with them." Arcene, with Leel by her side, walked calmly toward the twins. They stepped back as she approached.
"What is the meaning of this? You're ours."
"I don't belong to anyone, apart from my son. What you allow to happen here is unforgivable, so, if you want a Feast then you're going to give the people a real treat." Arcene spoke to the crowd. "You people don't know what you're doing, you've been here alone for too long. The Feast stops, today. No more eating each other, what's the matter with you? Raise more cattle, take proper care of your crops, learn how to organize properly and help each other. Whip is in charge now," Arcene stared at Whip, "and he better do a good job with the gift I have given him." Whip nodded.
Arcene watched as a man, she assumed the little boy's father, leaned a ladder against the statue and climbed up and retrieved the boy. Nobody tried to stop him, nobody did anything. Such events were not part of castle life, they were as helpless as the little boy that would have been sacrificed.
"Light it," ordered Arcene to the boy's father, as he handed the child over to his mother, the woman's face puffy and soaked with tears. She clutched the child tight and hurried away.
The man walked to the effigy and took a flint and striker from a pocket. He hit against the small piece of steel until a spark caught the dry wheat and it erupted into flame.
As the crowd moved away from the heat, Arcene spoke once more. "This will be your last Feast, and only two will give to Him this day."
Leel moved behind the twins as Arcene spoke, and nudged them forward without them even realizing what was happening.
They stared at Arcene as the flames licked at the head of the statue.
"Time to celebrate," said Arcene.
In one fluid motion the sword was out and arcing down, first at Flynn, then at Fionn. One left arm and one right arm thudded to the floor less than a second apart as the twins stared at each other, unable to accept what had happened.
Arcene sheathed her sword as the twins screamed, her eyes locked on theirs, unforgiving and without regret or mercy. She picked up the limbs, making sure they watched as she walked as close as she could to the fire, then threw the warm flesh into the flames.
"Have a nice evening."
Arcene clicked her fingers and Leel came to her side. "Look after the children Whip, and no more hiding."
Whip nodded and bent to the twins, now lying on the floor and writhing in agony, screaming and shouting for Arcene's blood. Nobody moved apart from Arcene and Leel.
They walked through the field, away from the madness. Arcene didn't turn as she heard the screams grow louder — what Whip did now was his business, or maybe it was the crowd finally come to their senses? Either way, she didn't look back as the screams of the twins rose higher and higher.
It was castle business, her part in it all was done.
Nice and Sunny
Arcene groped in the intense gloom, finding it hard to see after the brightness outside. Soon enough her eyesight improved and she pulled down on the lever. She heard a clang and peered out of the murder hole. She smiled as she watched the drawbridge lower, then thud into the earth on the other side of the moat.
She moved back to the entrance, stopping as something caught her eye. She squinted at the scrawled message written in chalk on the stone slab where she had met The Gatekeeper.
"Just popped out for a bit," read Arcene, then shook her head. He was a nice man; she owed him.
Back out in the sunshine Arcene and Leel walked up to the gates, all that stood between them and the outside world. Arcene smiled at the seemingly impossible-to-move bar that sealed the gates closed. She stepped forward and lifted it up easily then placed it with care to the side.
The Gatekeeper had explained that he'd replaced the original timber years ago, painting it to maintain appearance, but it was so worm-eaten and rotten that it weighed next to nothing. He was a wily one and no mistake.
Arcene pulled back the gates and stepped onto the drawbridge.
She didn't pause, look back, smile or cry.
"Come on, Leel, it's a lovely day, time to go home."
Woof!
"Now, what shall we hunt for our supper?"
THE END
The next adventure is ARCENE: THE ISLAND
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Get to know Arcene in her earlier years, as well as other characters referenced in this book, in THE COMMORANCY SERIES — an epic tale that covers the history of The Lethargy from the beginning right up until Arcene has her son.
