Pythian Games

A little bit of faery dust does go a long way. Me master makes me gather it, at the dawn of every day.

I am slow. I lack the rhythm that the High Court finds so fine. Yet I can catch these faeries with a bit of honeyed wine.

I set me traps out early, when the night rays start to fall. I toss in crusts of sugared bread, to appease the beasts I fears the most, kelpie queers, that leap about the loch.

Me master. He beats me. Uses a thick cord of birch I cut from a tree branch for me pa to use as a crutch after his leg was broke in that fall.

I dasn’t hurt the faeries, not even the uglier ones, the ones all covered in brown. Them don’t shines so much, but they sure do have plenty more dust. I has to shake them out over a pan. Sometimes I shake them senseless. But I always stand there and wait til they can at least get up, crawl back and away, back into the grasses.

There’s somes that knows me now. They throw things at me. Try to make me hide away. I am more afraid of me master than I am of any tricks they could try.

Others knows me troubles in this world. Theys knows I am a bit slow. They tries to help me. When they can. Helping catch the others. Sometimes more than one has offered up hisself to me for the prize his dust brings.

Guess thems the ones that seed the beatings himself gives to me should I fail to bring in the required amount.

Master calls on me ma to mix the potions up. I seen him beat her once.

That’s when me pa fell off his horse then. The horse died. I saw a great hole in his chest. I didn’t understand that. When I asked me ma about it, she stared at me awful hard before she smacked me good across me face. She ran away to cry into her apron, sitting facing the corner of the kitchen behind the stove. I don’t ask on it no more.

Pa don’t look nobody in the face no more. Since he lost that leg under that horse, one eye don’t work so well no more. I still don’t understand why, but I ain’t askin no more neither.

I watch ma make the potions. Lately himself has wanted something special, something sweet.

It is a bitter blue goo, thick in the pan, stinking to high heaven. It takes days and days to brew up each batch all on its own.

I watch her grind down herbs and herbs and plants and grasses. Sometimes she lets me follow when she goes to gather her goods out in the woods. Once she let me hold her knife and carve off bits of bark for her specials.

She grinds and peels and shreds this stuffs, dumping it into her special black pot that I’s not allowed to touch. I have to fetch up the waters for it too. Special waters that takes, from the well in the cave miles away. I am not allowed to stray too far from the farm, but when I fetch out these waters I am gone all the day long. I take with me the mule Hexa, to carry back the baskets full of sweet clear waters.

I dasn’t lay hands upon the waters once theys in the baskets, covered ups and over with the lids. I ties the lids on tight with the good rope me pa showed me how to strand up last winter. I never lose a drop. Ma says it’ll be more than me arse if I foul that up. Very clear she is on how I must do these things.

Ma pours in the waters little bits by bits. Uses her little silver cup. She sits and talks at it the whole while she makes it. I never hears for certain what it is she’s saying. Pa says she’s saying magic words, making the stuffs more powerful. Says I am to stay well away and let things be. Let ma work lest I get me hide tanned. I does what he says. I’m a bit slow. But I ain’ts stupid.

Ma says takes five days to make this stuff proper. Then she scrapes the bit of blue yuck into a leather pouch. Cinches it up tight she does before she hands it off to me. I gots to be the one who takes it to the Master. Usually to his workshop.

I hates that workshop. It smells of sour pig meat. Foul beans. Offal stench.

That’s where he keeps her. He does. My friend. Ariahn. She was so beautiful before he snatched her away into that workshop of his. Like a shiny goddess in the picture book ma has hid away wrapped up in white cloth. Such shiny red-brown hair. Such burning deep green eyes. Her skin so soft so white, like petals of roses floating on fresh creme. And she was clean. She was always so clean. And sweet-smelling. She smelled of the pasture hays and the wild flowers. She always smiled. Always. And laughed. All the time she was laughing she was. Sounded like bells ringing too. It did. She looked after me. She never turned from me after I got so slow. She never made fun of me. She always had time to stop and talk to me. She was so good to me. She is me cousin she. Me best friend.

Me they just beats. Himself just beats me. Beats and beats and beats. I am used to that.

Her he married he did. She was his pride and joy. Loved to show her off he did. What with all her skills and her talents.

I don’t know how it came to pass. One day he was all smiles to her. Then the Dark Man came. On his fine black horse. Then the world blacked out for us here. The Dark Man cometh. He stold away all our Sun.

Miss Ariahn. She bore the brunt of him. Had Master drag her off by the hair, that Dark Man did. Through the mud and the muck. Twas her screaming woke me up that night. I dasn’t go help her. All I could do was shake and watch. Pray she lived to see the new day.
It was near she didn’t. Those blood curdling screams of hers. Gods. They shake me in me boots every time I hear them. No day passes she ain’t made to scream now.

He beat her. He beat her and beat her and beat her. Worser than ever he beat me. But he never touched her face. Her pretty pretty face. He makes her sing some days. Loved to hear her sing for him, he did. Ma says she still sees he loves Ariahn. Says it still glows in his eyes. She says he’s the walking damned he is. I believes her.

I seen him many a day of late him leaves the workshop. Tears streaming down his face they are. But still he cannot quit himself. Lest the Dark man take to beating him. Taking away all his Power.

I gets to see her, when I take things into himself. I don’t know what he done or how he done it. I goes in and she is pressed tight up into the wall. I can sees clear the nails in her hands, in her wrists. There’s chains upon her. Wrapped tights around her throat. He keeps her in that fine red velvet dress she loved so much. The one she wore after theys was married. She wore it her first day her at the Node. It’s all soiled and in tatters it is now. Black with blood and muck. It’s tored loose and hanging above her waist. I dasn’t look there either. Himself has been cutting on her. I seen that too.

I has to go in there every morning, before anyone else stirs, and clean up all the messes in there. At first I tried to clean her up too. I tried so hard to wipe her face clean. Twas all covered with mud, smeared over. Only clear spots were where fell her tears.

Master beat me hard when he came in and found me trying to make her up tidy. I dasn’t try much, but I tries what I can. When no one is lookin.

He cut off all her hair. I smelt it all burning up one day. I dint know twas her hair til later after Master had gone to bed and I snuck in to feed her some. Master says I may give her water whens I’s there to muck up the floor. Naught but water he says. I am careful though. I takes her breads with sugars sweet. She smiles at me. She has no teeth anymore. I have to dips her breads in milk, soak them up soft and nice, and press them in between her lips. I have to force her to swallow it down. I see she wants to die, but I cannot help her there. She begs me so with her eyes. Never she says a word. Not one word. Still she smiles at me whenever she sees me. I makes her smiles I do. Just by me being there.

I knows he beats her hard. I know terrible things go on in theres. That evil evil shed. He keeps it too hot in the summer. In winter he allows no fire.

It was that evil Dark Man told himself about the faery eyes. Me ma she knows the old old ways. Pa says twas only a matter of time afore they fell upon her and set her to workin up the old stuffs.

The blue stuff goes into her eyes. Poor Miss Ariahn. I hears the Master screaming at her. All the time he’s screaming. Don’t look at me he shouts at her. Don’t look at me.

I seen him once. He grabbed out the bag from my hand and tore into it. He snatched up great gobs of the stuff and shoved it hard into her eyes. She screamed when it touched her. Screamed. Worse than befores. All the befores. So much worse. I got so scared I wet meself. Fell to the ground I did. There was sparks where that stuff hit her skin. Green sparks there was. Master he was screaming at her, screaming, the whole time. I nevers heard a word of it. Devils stuff, says I. I ran away. Took quite a beating the next day seeing as I hid out for a day and a night afore I could bear to go back. Himself beat me nearly dead. That after me pa beat me too.

Pa says he beat me trying to keep the Master from beating me. Tain’t do no good. Ma says she weren’t too sure she could patch me up. I don’t run away no more. I dasn’t try it. Me leg ain’t that good no more neither. Makes it hard to go anywhere. Always dragging on behind me it is now.

Poor poor Miss Ariahn. She’s doomed. As surely as the rest of us is here on this plantation. But the Master claims she’ll outlive us all and be damned too for all eternity.

I believe him. That man is the devil. If the Master ain’t the devil then that Dark Man is. And that makes the Master the Devil’s right hand man. And us all slaves to them.

by Raven TK

http://breakonthroughtotheotherside.wordpress.com/