The Escapist

by Madoc Fox

  “Do not drink too much! You might become permanently comatose.” Tapie exclaimed, but the words rang hollow in Oscar's ears as though from across a great distance. Crumpling gently against the oak trunk, Oscar’s hand released the cup to spill across the ground. Within minutes the desired effect was achieved. The boy resided deep in an unnatural slumber and all the while, the crazy woman continued to tidy up in the background.

  Chapter 18

  Awaking to a lush soft ground beneath him and the rich, exotic aromas of Etiainheim, Oscar realised with relief that Tapie must have succeeded in bringing him back. Amid the darkness the swirling cosmos shone in all its grandeur and Oscar granted himself a short moment of reflection. He could no longer feel any trace of the Valerian in his system, in fact he felt remarkably refreshed. But then he supposed this should not come as any surprise since it was his mind that resided in Etiainheim, not his body.

  Springing lightly to his feet, Oscar looked around for Tapie. Much to his surprise, the woman was on her hands and knees, panting as though on the verge of exhaustion.

  “Are you okay, Tapie? You look terrible. What happened?”

  “That was much harder than I anticipated.” she gasped between breaths. “It has taken me the best part of the night to succeed.” she exhaled forcefully, before sweeping back her hair and looking to Oscar, who could only remember blurry fragments of a dream.

  “You dipped in and out in fleeting moments. When I finally reached you – well- it wasn't easy. We were very close to the edge: if you hadn’t gained a full purchase on this world in time, who knows what would have happened. But then I suppose you wouldn’t have been in a fit state to know.” Tapie drew a long breath and stood up. Flattening the leaves that made up her tunic and running her fingers through her hair, she composed herself. “Anyhow, enough of the perils. It worked, and you are here.”

  “Thank you Tapie, I’m glad you got me through. This really means a lot.”

  “Sure, but don't expect me to make a habit of it.” She smiled wryly. “So…what did you intend on doing next?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I suppose I need to retrace my path back to Vergil, I just hope I can get there in time. Will you come?” he asked earnestly. In truth, Oscar had no plan for how to reach Vergil. All he knew was he had a desperate desire to find the rat and to stop Edmund before it was too late.

  “I'm afraid I cannot join you.” Tapie said. “I seldom leave the forest, and fear I would be more of a hindrance than a help.” She looked at the boy's crestfallen face yet smiled warmly. “Besides I must remain here to look after your body through my counterpart in Singeard. If I were to come with you my body would be likely to wander further a field. But remember what you have learnt thus far Oscar. Rules can be bent; you just need to figure out how they can change to suit you. Don’t forget, you are a mind in a world of souls and that in itself is a huge advantage.”

  The two parted ways, each bidding the other good luck. Oscar returned to the North of the clearing to retrace his previous footsteps. Without Vergil or Josie, he could not help but feel more exposed, naked somehow. Despite Tapie’s words of encouragement he felt more vulnerable now he was alone, as though at any moment the vultures or wolf riders would seize upon him.

  The decayed trail which had originally marked the Maere’s path through the landscape had completely disappeared and new flowers bloomed afresh. Though it was heartening that the forest could heal so quickly from the wound, this came as small consolation to the boy who had lost his path. Deep in thought, Oscar wandered, trying to determine how he might best manipulate the rules of Etiainheim. He soon lost himself within the forest, any sense of direction foiled by the trees arching overhead with such magnificent stature as to block his view of anything else.

  Numb to all the splendid colour and lustre of the forest, Oscar’s focus was on his destination and the urgent pull inside him which was leading him there. An internal compass guided him as though a hidden force had come to play a hand in his destiny. But it was more than just an idea coercing him along; he felt a desire, an aching within him which only relented if he abided by the path. Resisting for just a moment he sat amongst some tall bluish, green grass and a prism of flowers to consider his options. Despite the calming surroundings he was anxious. It was frustrating, for how long had it been since the confrontation with Edmund’ Maere? He could not stop thinking of Vergil and Josie and the other toys; if he was not successful in this world they would most likely all be doomed in the other. The compulsion to move grew in intensity as though a counterweight far away would not release him, the other half of a dipole. Oscar sprang once again to his feet.

  As he pushed further into the forest he emerged onto the edge of a meadow. The grass was trampled and he was almost certain that this was the area where he had hidden from the vultures. Now that he had his bearings again, Oscar turned purposefully to retrace the steps that he and Vergil had taken. Yet he could not help feeling something was wrong: with every step he took in that direction, he felt a deep pang, a sense that he was ignoring the internal compulsion that had guided him up until now. Oscar sank once again to the floor. Should he go in the direction in which he thought his companions must lie or was the compulsion telling him something crucial – a force too strong to be ignored?

  Once a thought embeds itself into a mind it is hard to shake and Oscar could not rid himself of the sense that he should be following his instincts. It gnawed inside him, making him feel anxious. He closed his eyes and focused on the tugging at him as though it were an invisible thread. Curiously, he explored it with his mind, drawing it closer in an attempt to understand what it meant. As he pulled tentatively at the thread he was overwhelmed by nausea and opened his eyes with a start. To his intense surprise, he discovered that he had apparently moved forward along the path by several yards. Looking back he could see the distinct patch of grass he had just been sitting in.

  Amazed, yet doubting his own judgement, Oscar closed his eyes again. Once more he concentrated on the persistent thread and tugged at it again, stronger this time. Though more prepared for the unsettling sensation that came with his actions, he was still shocked by the results. When he opened his eyes for the second time he found himself sat in the same pose but surrounded by floating orbs in the middle of a field; he must have travelled hundreds of yards, if not more.

  It were as though the mass of the object at the other end of the thread were so great that by pulling on it, Oscar only served to move himself closer. Marvelling at this newly discovered phenomenon, Oscar could not quite believe he was being dragged across Etiainheim towards who knew what. Experimenting with the new-found ability, he held tightly onto a nearby rock and tried pulling with his mind once again. Surely this time – anchored as he was – whatever was at the other end of the thread must come to him? Yet Oscar was unprepared for the shock which jarred through his body as he was forcefully dragged from the rock and landed with a thump on the other side of the field. Clearly he was dealing with something much stronger than himself. Feeling suddenly doubtful, he considered turning back to the path he had taken with Vergil. But the compulsion deep within him and his enduring curiosity served to spur him on.

  Summoning together all of his mental strength he gave one final, monumental tug, this time keeping his eyes open. From the very first instant of exertion the world whipped past his eyes in a blur. Fields, trees and buildings merged as one, leaving only multicoloured streaks which formed a tunnel around his vision. The effect was completely disorientating and Oscar felt the nausea rising up within him once again. The sensations continued for several seconds until he feared he might fall over and then, abruptly, it all stopped.

  Looking around his new surroundings, Oscar now found himself sat in amongst the train carriages close to the loading bays; the area where he had last encountered Edmund’s Maere. Line after line of rails peeled off to the horizon, with trains delivering coal to the station. He had travelled a very long way and the aching pull had d
ied off somewhat as though satisfied he was nearing the right place. Oscar could still sense a gentle tug on his heart but the feeling had diminished somewhat. Putting this out of his mind, he looked around for any trace of Vergil or the others but the dockyard was empty. Carriages still shunted around, going about their business but this time no Itse were to be seen. Oscar busied himself looking for any sign of where his companions might have gone, pushing further through the loading bay in the process.

  The train carriages which took up most of the rail space all looked incredibly similar: behemoth wood and iron constructions that were either completely empty or full of mounds of coal. The locomotives however varied enormously. Some were so diminutive they defied all sense in their ability to heave such convoys; others looked positively monstrous, the giant wedged fenders an imposing sight to behold. The chimneys on each were of equal contrast, varying from the short and sturdy through to enormous funnel-like constructions that spewed out huge lugs of steam and smoke as they chuffed along.

  Though each locomotive had a distinctive character, it soon became clear that some were more fanciful than others. The most extreme versions no longer looked like a conventional locomotive, instead appearing as creatures from far flung places. One convoy in particular caught Oscar’s eye, for it was fronted by the head and torso of a crimson coloured dragon. Apparently lying flat on its scaled belly, the dragon’s talons closed around the wheels and connecting rods holding all elements of the locomotive in place. A ferocious beaked lizard head sat atop the boiler and fender, with smoke and steam billowing from its nostrils while a fire burned in the eyes. The dragon locomotive was almost alive: the talons appeared to clench and release, while the mouth flexed slightly and growled when Oscar neared. It was a staggering sight to which Oscar was in awe, but pulling himself reluctantly away he continued to scour the depot.

  It was only as Oscar decided to give up and turn back to where he had started that he realised he was no longer alone. A small but determined presence was following him, for he could quite clearly hear it jangling whenever he moved. Turning suddenly on the spot, his suspicions were confirmed as he caught the toy jester that he had nearly collided with in the electroplant. Again, there was something familiar and Oscar recalled his realisation that this just might be the Itse of his old friend Piggy. Indeed, the jester appeared to recognise Oscar and looked at him with its head cocked to one side. The face had a stitched smile permanently emblazoned across it and button eyes which now bore into him.

  “Don't suppose you know where Vergil and Josie are do you?” Oscar asked, only somewhat rhetorically - he faintly hoped the Jester might just turn and answer him. Instead the toy character turned on its heel and walked away, a little springy tail bouncing as he went. 'Great' Oscar thought sarcastically, though to his surprise, after a few steps the jester turned again and continued to stare at him. He sensed that the small jester was attempting in its own way to communicate –to show or lead him to somewhere or to something- and so cautiously he followed.

  The jester led Oscar decisively through a maze of carriages, locomotives and various other pieces of large machinery, looking back occasionally to ensure the boy was still following. Eventually the small toy stopped and stood idly as if having reached its destination. Looking around, Oscar thought he recognised the place, and yes, the jester had apparently led him to the exact spot where the fight with Edmund’s Maere and the flock of matrons had taken place. Oscar drew back, unable to rid himself of the feeling he might be ambushed at any second. No one was around to save him if that were the case and he could not help but wonder why the jester would lead him here. It couldn’t be a trap, for surely Piggy would never betray him, so why would his Itse?

  Oscar glanced around again, still somewhat mindful of an ambush but this time something caught his eye, something that wasn't there before. Next to the wheel of a carriage a small object glinted in the moonlight. Moving closer he discovered a sphere of metal, a composition of fragments which had tightly fused together. He stepped towards the ball and a shiver ran along his spine, tingling every nerve ending. He knew in that moment what he had found. This was it, he thought, this was his soul, his Itse. Suddenly it all made sense: the aching that had led him here, one so strong it overrode all else and had dragged him across Etiainheim through sheer force. His soul had been lingering in the place his mind most wanted to be -where he thought Vergil, Josie and the toys were- the place he longed to get back to.

  Now that he knew what it was, he could not help but feel slightly disappointed that his Itse was so uninspiring a form. But as he reached out towards it, the sphere began to change, unfurling gracefully so that two metallic arms were clearly visible either side of a central shaft. The column of metal protruded upwards, unfolding further as it went, every element weaving and branching out until a recognisable form slowly emerged. It was a small boy, who looked much like a younger version of Oscar. However the boy was made of brass and tin and other various metals, all moving together so smoothly they might have been constructed by an alien maker. It was not so much steam power so much as it was electroart.

  Though two glowing yellow bulbs sat in the place of eyes, they shone with intelligence and blinked most realistically, controlled by fine metallic muscles. Oscar looked into his soul’s eyes and smiled, for he saw far beyond the warming yellow glow they emitted. The Itse stumbled toward him as a child would move to its parent and in one simple motion grasped Oscar's hand.

  To Oscar it felt as though a lifetime of burden had fallen from his shoulders. He never wanted to let go, for now –finally- he was complete. It was a dangerous feeling and Oscar could see why Vergil had been reticent for the two to meet. The desire to abandon a lifetime’s worth of worry and regret was intense and it was clear why for most people such a union should only ever become possible at the time of death.

  As he stood there a wind invisible to all others but himself blew through Etiainheim, calling his name, seducing him and his Itse to follow. Its haunting song enticed them with the chance to stay together, to exist only amongst the cosmos in its unspeakable glory, to reside amongst the stars forever bright. It was wonderful, and the more he gave in to the wind the surer he felt. He was ready.

  “Stop.” A sharp tug at his hand closed his heart to the pulling winds and he looked down at his soul, the small mechanical boy whose face now frowned up at him.

  “It is not our time, there are others who need us!” The child did not move his lips but instead spoke directly to Oscar’s mind and Oscar knew instinctively that he would be able to answer in turn.

  “Ok, I'm sorry.” he thought to the boy. “I know. How do we get to Vergil? I don't know, ask George? Piggy!” He conversed with his Itse effortlessly, all thoughts and emotions instantly registered in one another so that the conversation was almost one-sided. Other means of communication suddenly seemed superfluous, almost primitive.

  Oscar looked up from his Itse, the course of action decided and hand in hand they walked together toward the jester. Strangely, as they closed upon the small toy a myriad of voices arose, all clamouring to be heard. They sounded like they belonged to Piggy but it was a sea of conversation with no coherent stream of thought to follow. Abruptly Oscar let go of his soul's hand and the voices stopped. He linked hands with his Itse once again.

  “You can hear him through me. We can communicate if you like? Yes, I would like that.” Oscar's mind reached out into the myriad of Piggy's voices. “George, it's me Oscar.”

  The voices immediately turned their attention to Oscar, a jumble of competing dialogues.

  “Oscar. Hey Oscar. It's Oscar! My friend, my best friend. Is he ok? I don't know. Hopefully… I still have his pick, I could go see him. Yeah…yeah! Good idea. Bet he needs cheering up, dealing with Edmund and the matrons. Oh the matrons! Oh I hate Edmund.” But amidst the cacophony of thoughts came a stronger voice, drowning out all others.

  “Hello Oscar. Your Itse has been waiting for you. You didn’t follow him the
first time and he’s been watching for you ever since. He often comes to see me though.” The jester moved closer to the mechanical boy, jostling him in a friendly manner. Overjoyed at the chance to communicate properly, Oscar spoke again.

  “Oh Piggy, it is you, pal. How have you been?”

  “We’re fine now. The electrostation is hard work, but we are well looked after.” Oscar saw flashes of Cid the foreman and a stone golem as though Piggy’s Itse had relayed the memories from both sides for him.

  “We tell Cid about you, you know? We ask him to try and bring you here. We miss you.”

  “I can't come yet mate, I have to help the other children – the toys. I must stop Edmund and the vultures, the matrons. Otherwise they will keep on suffering until it’s too late.”

  “We hate Edmund and the matrons, we understand. We want to be at you side to fight as well. But we are two parts of the same person and not everything can be done on this side. Our mind forgets Edmund and makes it hard for us to follow.” The jesters face showed a frown, his stitched mouth and half moon button eyes looking sad.

  “It’s okay.” Oscar interjected again. “I understand. Though did you see which way they headed - the rat or cat? The black beast and the broken toys?”

  “They took the train one after the other. The rat looked injured, they were slow to follow. Cid tells us the trains head to the coal mines – that or the front lines of the war.”

  “Which one did they take?”

  “This one.” The jester point to a track, though Oscar was disappointed to see it was not so blackened with coal dust as many of the others. He had a bad feeling about it, not least upon seeing a familiar looking link which glinted in the half light near the rails. He turned back to the jester to confirm his suspicion.