The Escapist (24 page)

“Wait.” Vergil hissed to Oscar, putting out his hand as the boy shifted, ready to delve into the fray.  Incredibly, neither vultures nor knight had detected their arrival.

“Do you have some sort of strategy, Oscar?  Or do you just intend to run headlong into a fight you most certainly will not do well out of?” 

Yet even as Vergil spoke, the lead vulture walked toward the knight, beak poised.  She lunged, only to be deflected by the knight’s shield but again in unison the birds shrieked mockingly. 

“Think, Oscar.”

“Ok, Ok.  I need a diversion.  I think I might be able to help the knight – even up the fight a little.”  He held out his hand to reveal three metal links.  “Vergil, can you distract the vultures.”

“What, all of them?” Vergil asked, with a look of indignation.

“Well, yes, of course.”  Oscar replied.

  “Okay, but if it was anyone else...  I'll give it a try, but don't go expecting anything fantastic now.” Vergil said with a wink. “Just give me the nod.”

“Ok, we better move quickly.  I just need to tell the cat.”  Oscar reached his hand into his pocket, lingering over his soul.  It was reassuring to have the warmth from his Itse in times of danger - it sent shivers racing through the fibre of his being and he felt ready for anything.

“We can do it!  Yes together we can.  Josie, I need you to wait here, if things go badly then...”
Oscar had barely started, but the cat interrupted.

“No.  No, no, we will come too.  We want to help the Master, you will not stop us.”
The cat growled gently, Josie's soul having spoken with such ferocity that even Oscar dared not oppose it.

“Ok, but if things get too much, flee.”
Oscar responded, but the cat merely purred her affirmation, two gemstone eyes gleaming. 

Despite the adversity of the situation, Oscar felt an ember of confidence glowing inside, stoked by the camaraderie of his companions.  As he watched, the knight again deflected an incoming swipe though it knocked him back slightly.  It was time for Oscar to act.

“Okay Vergil.  Go!”

As the man dispersed in a blue cloud of mist Oscar darted out of cover, moving in blind faith that Vergil would act in time.  Immediately the vultures turned their gaze on Oscar, staring at the intruder who threatened to run headlong into the group.  But the element of surprise did not keep them at bay for long.  As he drew nearer to the knight, the birds reacted.  They cried aloud, clicking their beaks and stepping forward to tighten the snare.

Just as Oscar wondered whether Vergil had timed his distraction incorrectly, a cloud of blue fog enveloped the semicircle of vultures.  They snapped and swiped, clawing at the thin air.  All the while blue tendrils attacked them from all sides, whipping them into a confused frenzy.  Moving now within the cloud, Oscar finally reached the fallen knight.

“Sir, are you ok?”

“Blasted vultures, winged demons, cannot fight them all at once.  If I was younger I would give them what for.  Oh Oscar, Oscar, that boy never lost hope, we always knew he had it.” 
The Itse rambled, a true reflection of the old man.

“Sir, we have come to help you.”
Oscar interrupted urgently.

“Help? Help! Pah!  Hmm, Yes I suppose help would be good.  We do not need help, we have fought for years on the front lines you know.  Yes Oscar, help us find the strength.”
The last sentence came through clearly amongst the rabble.  Oscar looked to the limply hanging arm, the shoulder plate dangling lifelessly from the rusted metal body.

“Here, I believe, these are yours.”
Oscar held out his hand to give the knight the armour plate linkages he had found.  Delighted, the knight motioned to grab them but at that moment a vulture burst forth through the blue mist.  Caught off guard, Oscar watched dumbly as the scavenger loomed forward, bearing down upon them.  With only a second to spare, a burst of orange fire streaked over his shoulder and struck the chest of the bird.  Blazing brightly the cat swooped again, the flying attack on the vulture working effectively to force it back into the grasping blue tendrils of mist.  It was an electrifying sight, Vergil and the cat fighting together against the birds in a shifting, colourful spectacle.

Making good the distraction, the knight took hold of the links from Oscar’s outstretched hand.  No sooner had he touched them than in a flash of white light they disappeared.  In that moment, a patch of gleaming metal appeared on the shoulder of his disabled arm, and - as though discovering it for the first time- the knight stretched out the limb.  He sprung to his feet revitalised by his restored strength and readied himself for battle.  He looked down at Oscar and nodded.  In a moment he had drawn his sword, retrieved his shield and was marching fearlessly toward the fray.

With the intervention of the knight, Vergil retreated back to Oscar panting with exhaustion.

“How was that? Not bad eh, the old man seems to be in better form.”  Vergil gasped, but Oscar did not respond; his eyes were fixed on the battle.  The knight and the cat continued to fight the birds, most of whom had fled.  But the lead vulture remained defiant, assisted by a few stubborn followers.  The knight engaged the monstrous bird, swiping his sword effortlessly, whilst deflecting successive blows.  The cat swooped around the outside, deterring the remaining vultures from intervening.  It was an uneven battle but so far they were holding their own.

“Yes that was mightily impressive, Vergil.  Thank you for your help, again.  You rest up for a while, I’ll go and assist them in fighting the matrons.  It looks like it could tip either way.” Said Oscar.

“No Oscar, we must use the distraction.  Try not to worry - they stand a much better chance than last time.  You’ve evened up the score.”  Vergil insisted but Oscar lingered, frustrated by his inability to help them. “Come, Oscar.  Sometimes you must let others fight their own battles.  You have to have faith in them.”

As Oscar and Vergil retired from the commotion, Oscar touched his key to contact the souls and explain he was not deserting them.  But through the grumbled assertions of the Master's voice, the shrieking scorn of the matrons and Josie's occasional rebukes, Oscar was not heard.  Silently he wished the Master and Josie good luck before turning reluctantly away.

Together the two companions passed further into the ravine until the clashing sounds of the conflict behind died to a gentle clanking noise that echoed from the walls.   Oscar looked back several times but soon the bends in their path obscured the sight of the struggle and all he could do was hope for the best.  The ravine had become much narrower whilst the cliffs which had so recently towered on both sides now reduced in height.  To Oscar it seemed that either the world was folding in suffocatingly close or perhaps that he and Vergil were growing to colossal proportions the further they went.  Either way, they would have to exit soon else they would find themselves entombed by the surrounding rock. 

As Oscar suspected, the ravine was ending, for the walls soon narrowed and dropped to the extent that they formed a final doorway, only a little taller and wider than he was.  The boy and the young soldier both squeezed through this gap in the rocks, emerging out into a wide rocky clearing.  The space was almost completely empty but for the centre where there stood a derelict, stone cottage. 

As they entered the clearing, the sky above was suddenly dark grey, broiling with thunderclouds.  Lightning flashed and a violent clap of thunder signalled a downpour of heavy rain, the sound of which almost drowned out the distant barrage of artillery fire.  In seconds Oscar was drenched with water; so much so that the rocky clearing filled like a bowl until both he and Vergil found themselves wading through water, ankle-deep.

This was it, Oscar said to himself, still uncertain what to expect but somehow relieved that it was finally upon him.   As though Vergil had read his thoughts he reassuringly put a hand on Oscar's shoulder, smiling grimly.  With every step they took, the water around them was becoming murky, dirty; as though someone had stirred it through with an implement coated in black filth.  The closer they drew to the cottage, the darker the water became and the more resistance they encountered as it rose and thickened, forming a black, tar-like substance.  The surface rippled slightly as though signalling movement below and Oscar paused, uncertain of the threat. 

Sure enough, the ripples grew until –suddenly- a spray of limbs erupted at several points around the boy.  Corrupt blackened hands reached up from the water, grabbing at his legs and with their touch Oscar felt his mind succumbing to the painful memories he thought he had left behind.  He remembered the abandonment he had felt when left by the Appleby, the way the matrons had neglected him and the constant bullying from Edmund.  Dark, depressing thoughts took his mind hostage and threatened to overwhelm him.  As his hand strayed near his soul he could hear his Itse screaming, a voice soon joined by his own, both of them crying out together. 

“Break out of it Oscar!” Vergil snapped, shaking the boy by the shoulders. “Do not let them overcome you, that is how they feed, preying upon our own insecurities and fears.”

Guided by the concern in Vergil’s voice, Oscar came to just in time.  Forcibly he tore himself away from the grasping hands, which melted back below the surface.  But where they had been, the disturbance in the water did not abate.  From the pool of dark sludge, as though several blankets had been pinched and lifted from the centre, black forms began to rise.  The sludge came with them as they pulled upwards, rising and stretching until it formed several shadowy figures.  Their eyes glowed brightly, all of them the same: all of them Kurjus, the shadow stalkers.  They were all of them forms of the same being Oscar had seen in Edmund’s mind; the same despicable creature Vergil had fought on the moors.  They surrounded Oscar and Vergil, closing in slowly as the two neared the cottage.  They were wardens of the dark feeding grounds, Maere that had come to revel in others’ misery.  Having sensed the toys despair they had swarmed to the place to feed.

“Quick! To the cottage.” Vergil shouted, pulling Oscar's hand as he trudged through the waters.  Oscar's head still felt blurred and his actions slow and lethargic as though all his energy was being sapped.  His very worst fears were growing, despite every attempt to resist and only vague traces of hope remained.  He stumbled behind Vergil, almost falling face first into the sludge but was again held up by the young soldier.  At the front door to the building Vergil turned to the boy, and, clasping his face in both hands he spoke directly to him, staring urgently into Oscar's eyes.

“Oscar, you can do this.  I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought you couldn’t but I hope you can forgive me for it nonetheless.  Save those children, free yourself.  Just don't lose hope.”

In a sudden movement Vergil twisted and pushed Oscar through the door of the cottage before turning to face the incoming tide of glowing-eyed Maere.  The door swung shut as the boy fell through, calling out desperately for his friend.

Chapter 22

Pitch black.  Not even the faintest ray of light broke through the darkness in which Oscar found himself.  Afraid, he reached for comfort.

“I need you.  Keep strong.  I'm scared.  It's not the first time.  We have overcome worse.  Perhaps...”
the last word lingered distressingly in Oscar’s mind.

Oscar lifted out the key, the warmth of his soul somehow flooding light into the farthest corners of the room as though he had released the illumination from a star. The warmth pushed away the darkness from his mind, the depressing thoughts of his past ebbing away to linger only in the deepest recesses of his memory.  But looking around Oscar could still see the same thick black sludge he had walked through, bleeding from the walls and oozing up from underfoot.  It glistened in the light; remarkably it appeared as though the very bricks of the building were tainted with the darkness and he was now walking through the belly of the beast.

Taking a few tentative steps further into the hall, he was able to see into some of the rooms which branched off this corridor.  Though fully furnished, everything was sodden with filth.  The destructive liquid dripped from the oil lamps and paraphernalia that had once been the pride of the rooms; like memories once cherished but now only bitterly remembered. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar caught sight of a smallish figure quickly passing between a decayed bookshelf and a chair.  It was the toy soldier.  It had grown since Oscar had last seen it but, as with the doll he had previously encountered, time and experience had not been good to it.  Its clothes were torn and tattered, its rifle had snapped and black tears rolled down its plastic cheeks.  Despite the alarming appearance Oscar moved to approach it but as he did so another toy crept from behind a sofa.  It was the stuffed bear, though now its fur was detaching in clumps with every step as though the toy animal were falling apart, slowly dying.  More and more haunting toys shuffled into the room where Oscar stood and surrounded him.  It was intimidating to see these children’s playthings looking up at him, the embodiment of things once so innocent now deteriorated into the grotesque.  

“I want to go home, I miss my Ma.”

“Please don't come near me.  Be quiet, be quiet, don't let him see you.”

“Leave us, get out of here.”

The souls all whispered to him in a blur of conflicting voices.  Some swayed back and forth like frightened animals; others carefully peered around corners or from behind others.  They told him their stories.  They showed him their fear and sorrow.

“I'll hit, not hard, just a bit, maybe enough to bleed his nose.  Just enough so Edmund will see I’m doing what he said.”

“Don't tell the matrons, it will only make it worse.”

Despite the silent mouths, their voices grew to a crescendo in Oscar's mind.  He was paralysed for thought, every time he tried to respond or consider what to do, another voice burst in.  Crying, shouting, screaming.  Calls for loved ones, promises to run away, threats, prayers, pleading.  Each plea drained Oscar more and more.  How could he ever help them?  Surely there was too much for one person to resolve.  Even his Itse seemed affected by it, fading, drowning in the sea of sorrow.  With every new plea, the light in his hand grew dimmer.

“Stop, please stop.  We came to help you.” 
But the voices did not stop, and he found himself falling to his hands and knee clutching at his head.
 
Black liquid poured up from the floor, shackling
his wrists
. 
Surely he couldn’t give in like this, not here, so close, after everything he and Vergil had fought for?

“We said STOP!”
Oscar boomed, the key in his hand flooding the room again in a burst of white light.  The voices fell silent at once, the only remaining noise a faint growling which Oscar couldn’t place.  Making good the rest, he seized his chance.

“We have come to help, stop shouting at us.”
Oscar implored.  The toys gazed at Oscar with blank and expressionless faces but it was the soldier that caught his attention.

“What can you do Oscar?” 
The voice that came through to him was sullen and curt; it sounded like Flynn.
“Leave us alone, let us be.”
The soldier said.

“You're right”
Oscar retorted.
  “What can I do?  I’m only one person. But this is not just my fight, it is all of ours.  The matrons, Edmund, they are all destroying our souls and only we can stand up to them.  They poisoned us against each other, they broke our friendships, but we don't have to let them.  We can work together.”

Feeling bolder with every word,
Oscar shook the black liquid from his hands, enabling him to stand.  He looked down to gauge the effect of his speech but to his disappointment many of the toy forms had already shrunk back into their hiding places.  Only the toy soldier stood before him with, staring up with his blank face though he did not reply.  After a moment, he too turned away, crawling under the sofa to hide with the others.

“Well fine, hide.  But I won't.  At least if I fail, I know I tried, I didn't just give up.”
All he received in response was a low growl, which stopped when he kicked the doorframe in frustration.  He was partially annoyed by the lacklustre response from the toys, but Oscar chided himself.  The toys were weakened and vulnerable, it was up to him to defend their fragility.  It had been silly to think he was ever going to end up facing Edmund with anyone but himself.  Turning to tackle what he knew to be the source of the growling, Oscar returned to the corridor and walked towards the closed door from which the noise seemed to have issued.  He was nervous and could not help but be discouraged by the feeble response the other toys had given him.  Seeking reassurance he reached for the key, but the invigorating warmth he had come to expect was not there.  He tried to call to his soul but there was no reply.  He was truly alone.  Steeling himself against a rising sea of panic, Oscar pushed open the door. 

To his great surprise, a brightly lit, perfectly clean and tidy child's room lay within.  Sunlight burst in from outside and a gentle breeze swept past him, filling the room with the smell of grassy meadows.  On one side of the room near the window lay a small bed covered with crisp, white linen and a mound of plump pillows.  Next to it sat a wooden chest topped with fresh flowers, several rosy apples and a few small wooden toy figurines.
Transfixed, Oscar wandered over to the window looking out onto golden fields and crisp blue skies.  A mother played outside in the fields with a young boy, his gleeful shouts carrying faintly into to the room.  It was a scene more picturesque than any he had ever witnessed before.

Standing captivated by the scene outside the window, Oscar started as another noise caught his attention.  Though almost imperceptible, he could hear the gentle sob of a child issuing from under the bed.  Moving closer, Oscar stooped down to look beneath it but could not see anything.  The sobbing grew louder, but now it was laughter that filled his ears.  At first it sounded joyful, pure tones of happiness but rapidly the mirth grew more exaggerated, desperate even.  As he listened, the sound transformed again; the once angelic tones turning sinister so that the laughter no longer denoted playful glee but, finally, sadistic amusement.

“Come out, Edmund,” Oscar demanded, summoning all the courage he could.  The laughter stopped.  Outside the window the weather grew suddenly overcast, the sunshine waning as dark clouds chased one another across the sky at impossible speeds.  Golden fields decayed, wilting, browning, turning finally to black.  The mother and child figures remained, now clinging together as though fearful of the approaching storm.  In a moment the scene was broken and sudden explosions tore the land apart, vaporising the two cowering figures as fire rained down from high above. 

The room too was changing.  Without the sunlight streaming in it had begun to yellow and decay, the flowers and apples dying and mouldering whilst the wallpaper cracked and peeled to reveal the same oozing black filth which had overwhelmed everything else.  The wooden figurines and the chest on which they sat both crumbled to ash and the white bedsheets turned grey, as though buried under a layer of dust and grime. 

The transformation had taken only a matter of moments and Oscar gazed around the room warily.  Crouching slightly he peered again under the bed which was now hidden in shadows.  As he watched, two ruby red eyes blinked open in the darkness, fixing him in their sights.  For a moment nothing happened but then the room began to tremble.  Slowly, the eyes began to ascend.  Still under the bed they lifted it up as they rose, the frame eventually tipping up altogether to unveil the huge bulk of the black beast. 

Flinging the bed to one side the hideous form continued to straighten, the body now much too tall for the room that contained it.  The cottage could bear the force no longer: the ceiling above them exploded outwards and the walls all around crumbled, bringing them out onto the fire-ravaged remains of the meadow.  Standing tall, much taller than Oscar, was Edmund’s Maere.  The werewolf of a creature looked down at him, no longer putrid or disease ridden but coated in a black silken fur of so dark a hue that light seemed to get lost in it.  The two red eyes which beamed from the blackened form were familiar too; the whole thing was disturbingly reminiscent of the other, older Maere that that had fought with Vergil.

With no other strategy in mind, Oscar attempted to communicate via his Itse, hoping against hope that the key in his pocket would respond this time.  But even as he neared it…

“GET OUT!” 
It hit him with a force as though he had been punched.  Flashes of Edmund’s memories flooded Oscar’s mind along with a barrage of morbid and despondent feelings.  He felt utterly oppressed but somehow managed to keep his head.  He needed to ready his mind in defence, else all would be lost. 

The beast launched the first true attack.  Diving at the boy it swiped its claws at his stomach, all the while biting in frenzy just waiting for a moment of purchase.  Imbued with the sense of his final battle, Oscar responded.  Faster than ever before, he morphed his left hand, splaying out his fingers until they formed a wide stone shield connected at the wrist.  The beast hit it with a thud, sending Oscar reeling back a few paces.  Focusing on his other hand, Oscar willed it to form a spear and charged the enraged beast.  He ducked an incoming blow, deflected the next and struck at the creature where he thought its heart must be.  The Maere recoiled, wounded, letting loose an earth shattering howl that rang just a little too much of the boy once lost.  But the success was short lived.  In the next moment the Maere was on its feet again, growling and making a second attempt at the boy. 

This time the recoil from the blow sent Oscar flying so that he struck the wall behind him.  Stunned, he lost all concentration.  Looking down with horror he watched as his shield and spear morphed back into to hands, leaving him completely unprotected.  The black creature stalked around him, seemingly aware he had the boy on the ropes.  It did not hesitate for more than a moment before making yet another attempt on his life.  This was it.  Just as the beast loomed dangerously close, jaws slavering and claws about to sink with finality into Oscar’s flesh, the boy disappeared.  Only a puff of green smoke remained to indicate that he had ever inhabited that space.

Oscar reappeared in a second, standing in the cratered field just outside the remains of the room.  He felt dizzy from the feat he had just achieved and his energy was sapped; it would be a while until he would be able to pull that trick again.  But he had little time to celebrate his success.  The Maere had ploughed into the remains of a wall when Oscar had vanished and this had done little to diminish its rage.  If anything, the fury it radiated only seemed to get stronger with each foiled attack.  The beast rose once again and stalked menacingly toward the boy, though this time it did not pounce.  Whether it was because he expected the boy to vanish again, or because he wanted to take his time over the ordeal, Oscar could not tell.

Moving closer the Maere taunted the boy, flinging loose furniture and debris so that Oscar was forced to dodge back and forth.  The creature began to giggle, a disquieting noise that made Oscar want to turn and flee, though he knew it was too late for that.  Coming once again within striking distance the creature launched into a rapid series of blows.  Transforming quickly, Oscar parried them with strong metal arms but each blow drained him further of his already diminished energy.  Oscar began to waver beneath the blows and pulled back, dodging out of the way to evade the Maere once again.  But the beast had sensed the moment of weakness.  Taking an almighty leap into the air, it crashed back down to earth and punched the ground with both clawed arms.  The impact of the landing seemed to shake the entire surface of the charred field in which they stood, but the concentrated placement of the blow had caused an altogether more dangerous occurrence.  The ground shuddered, the force rippling through it in such a way that it whipped Oscar up into the air sending him flying until he crashed back down onto the hard earth with a bone crunching thud.  Winded, Oscar lay partially paralysed as the black shadow spread inescapably over him. 

The Maere was upon him before he knew it.   In the blink of an eye Oscar found himself struggling against the clawed hands that pinned his arms to the ground.  His futile attempts to escape were acoustically accompanied by the maniacal sound of laughter ringing in his head.  Only once a cold oblivion swept over him, a sense of aloneness that was so complete, did he realise that his Itse was no longer with him.  Had it left, or simply fallen from his person during the last attack?  Either way, he knew he no longer had the strength to best the Maere - and with that thought the last of his energies slipped out to beyond his grasp.  Recognising the look of defeat in his eyes, the Maere grinned maniacally, savouring the triumph in a way that reminded him acutely of Edmund.  The glowing eyes drew closer towards him, now just inches from his face; so close he could feel the hot, putrid breath on his cheek.  Unable to move, unable to think but at least no longer deluded by false hope, Oscar's fear gave way to acceptance.  The boy closed his eyes.  Whatever fate awaited him, he would not go into it scared.