Pythian Games

Delphia was the youngest daughter of the Triton, ruler of the Land. It was her special and chosen duty to protect the Land by undergoing The Treatment. It was an on-going process, The Treatment. It had been on-going for hundreds of years at the point in which Delphia was drafted into service. It seemed as if with every new royal body that appeared for Treatment, there were new modifications and new apparatus and new details to accrue, new talents to be imbued, new sources of which to make use.

On the morning that the Assistants would come to fetch her, the Royal household gathered together for the small ceremony that would strip Delphia of her rank and title, her name, her life. With careful gentle hands, and a minimum of tears, her loyal handmaidens carefully removed all Delphia’s linen garments, folding them carefully and laying them aside, piece by piece. Her hair was taken down, each golden pin delicately removed and set into a velvet lined box. The flowers so handsomely woven into her hair were laid out in the garden for the earth to accept in offering. Her rings came next. Then the chains round her throat, her wrists, her waist. Tears Delphia refused to shed glistened in her eyes. Sobs crested unuttered in her breast, stuffed deep down inside, beneath the feeling of duty and honor that bound her to her place. With tender fingers and the softest of cloths, all Delphia’s face paint and body paint were patiently scrubbed away, removing all trace of her now previous life, unlinking her from her lineage and heritage, casting her into a new, more powerful roll with every single stroke. She was given a specially prepared tea, made with herbs sent over by the Doctor to help ease Delphia through the coming procedures. The tea was a dark red, like thinned blood, with a thick texture that burned into her tongue as Delphia at first sipped, and then to get it over and done with, gulped down the tangy liquid.

By the time the Assistants arrived to carry her away, Delphia was more asleep than conscious. She felt her mother’s lips upon her cheek in farewell, heard the low rumble of her father’s voice. She vaguely saw colours and visions and flashes of light, nothing that made any sense. Time had ceased its flow, standing stalk-still. Delphia felt herself being tucked respectfully into a soft clean-smelling bed, immersed in the warmth of her new surroundings, the scent of spring flowers permeating the air. With a heavy sorrow-laden sigh, Delphia dropped deeper into sleep, deeper still into her new life, about which she had no information or idea whatsoever.

She never felt it when she was taken from her bed, directly into the surgery. Nor was she aware when she was returned to her own chamber.

The Program, as it was currently being run under Doctor of Heraistica, whom everyone called The Doctor. He had countless assistants, all silent and greatly contained. Delphia’s specific program began with her meals. Five times a day a healthy amount of something resembling cooked grains was set before her. Delphia began to judge time by the coloured bits in her grains. The red and orange flakes arrived with the first meal of the day. This meal tasted vaguely of peppers, fiery legumes. The next meal came with small chunks of blue and purple spread throughout. These chunks had a faint berry-like initial taste, but left a dark cloying aftertaste in her mouth, one that no amount of fruit juice or water could remove, not for hours. The next was a light snack, most often served with a bitter black tea. The grains this time were bespotted with clumps of green and red, the grains themselves leaning more towards yellow. These clumps were sweeter, more like honey, and their smell reminiscent of the sweet climbing vines that once grew outside Delphia’s windows at home. This was her favourite meal. The longest wait between meals came between this meal and the one that followed. The one that followed always came with chewier grains, filled with strips of black and green pieces, similar to sea weed, but not quite. This meal smelled vaguely of rotted fish. Delphia was frequently loathe to eat this meal, but this meal came with a cooling blue juice that coated her tongue and throat and aided in the meal’s consumption. The last meal was a snack, usually the grains baked into a cake of some sort, filled with various slivers of blues and yellows, and seemingly heavily spiced. This meal also included a warm cup of cider, also thick with spicings.

These flow of the meals, the lack of mental stimulation, the overly warm damp room, all seemed to work some sort of spell upon Delphia as the days shifted into weeks. There was not even a window out of which Delphia could lean and dream. There was at all times a very soft, nearly mute, stream of music. It seemed to penetrate and infiltrate her brain, numbing it, searing it, rearranging it. No one came into her room, for it was a room, even though it felt much like a cell. The food seemed to appear out of nowhere, the empty dishes to be taken away in the same manner, quickly, quietly, unobtrusive. Delphia found that she drifted in and out of consciousness, at all times.

When they slowly began to fill her chamber with water, she didn’t even notice, so used was she to the warm dampness usual to her quarters. The Doctor was very pleased with this one’s progress. Experiment number four-two-five-nine-five.

Delphia came back to herself, having been completely redesigned and re-educated. Memories of her former life were thin and few, but she did have faint memories of what she had been. More pertinent now was her current incarnation. She was now to be put into the training tanks. This was her first time in a training tank. She had no idea what to expect, especially as no one spoke to her to tell her anything. A wall in her chamber rose, as if of its own volition, opening into a tube-like corridor. After a moment’s hesitation, Delphia swam into the channel and moved forward down its lengths.

The waters in the corridor were different from those in her chamber. These waters tasted, stranger. An icy stillness lapped at her flesh as she deftly maneuvered the nascent currents and the marble curves, following an odd aroma that she felt an overwhelming compulsion to follow, to seek out. There before her arose an obvious door, made to look as if of wood and mortar, though it lacked the appropriate smell. This was the place to which she had been drawn so compellingly. Delphia shook her head to clear the tendrils of her hair from her eyes. She hovered calmly in the water, knowing that something would happen. Her eyes never left the centre of the door, waiting with sedate patience, for her moment to move, to seek, to find.

There was a clink, a clang, and very slowly the heavy door began to rise. Delphia surged forward, eager to begin, whatever it was she was to begin. She immediately stopped as if dead in the water. Before her swam an odyssey of creatures. Creatures that seemed to be like men, and women, but who were more fish than human. Delphia’s breath seemed to catch in her chest, even though her gills continued to work, pulling water in and pushing it out, efficiently extracting oxygen regardless of her mental state. She gasped, slamming her body against the door now shut tight against her, vainly struggling to find the capacity to comprehend, to take all this information in and to assimilate it.

However, there was no time. No time at all. The Beast was now in the waters with them, these twenty or so fish-like creatures, each individual with differing markings, differing traits and characteristics, different specialties. The Beast was far larger than even the longest fish-creature; at least forty feet in length, with a towering bulk. The putrid stench of the Beast was overpowering, thickening the water with pheromones and so much more. The thing had a great long neck upon which stood a small head with a thin pointed snout. It turned its head, snarling at its present company, showing off glittering rows of sharpest teeth. It roared, sending shock waves through the room. Several fish-people sped away from the Beast, taking it all in, getting a better look, seeking its weaknesses auto matically. It had a thick lump of a body, with four flippers, two in the front and two in the back, like any other animal. It had a short stump of a tail, although this one’s tail had the look as if it had been docked, perhaps bitten off during some altercation with another beast of some kind.

Instinct seemed to take over in Delphia’s brain. The muddled sensations evaporated as she dove head first towards the Beast, arms streaking out with fins flying, sharp spines digging into the Beast’s softer underbelly. As she slammed away, she whipped her lance-like tail in the Beast’s direction, catching it in the hind fin and slicing that fin off, back to the quick. She sensed the others around her affecting similar strategies, and she quickly repositioned herself for another attack. In all the attack lasted perhaps five minutes, as the collective of marine people succumbed to their now-natural instincts, all working together to eradicate the Beast.

The Beast did not sit tranquil as the attack commenced; he too fought back, slashing and snapping, biting and bellowing, ripping and tearing. Many a fish-creature lay in tatters on the floor of the chamber. Blue-black ichor sifted through the translucent water, floating upwards like gentle clouds. The Beast’s own dark crimson blood joined it, in dribs and drabs, as wounds opened to release fluids.

At the final toll, the Beast lay dead, slashed open, head nearly severed completely from its neck. Five fish-creatures, or pieces thereof, joined it in death, drifting towards the chamber’s floor. Every living fish-creature beheld wounds, some of a slight nature, others more life-threatening. Then a single gong sounded, reverberating throughout the water. Automatically, the creatures swam to a specific position against the sides of the chamber, as if they knew where their assigned places stood. A great whirling vortex appeared, clearing the dark liquids from the clear water, a hint of violet tingeing the now cleaned waters. Delphia immediately began to grow weary. She slipped away into sleep as if it were a comfy pair of slippers.

She awoke in her room, wondering if it had all been but a dream. She was convinced otherwise when she looked down, noting the once flowing fins on her arms showed tears and rents. A bandage lay wrapped around her abdomen, a small greenish-black stain colouring it at the centre. Her head suddenly clear, Delphia sat up, looking around wildly.

From the observation booth, the video of Delphia clearly displayed her distress. From the screens of the other fish-creatures, she was not alone in her realization that all things were no longer as they seemed. With a sigh, the Assistant pressed a few keys on the computer, inputting new orders. It was time for the next round of training to commence.

by Raven TK

http://breakonthroughtotheotherside.wordpress.com/