The Escapist

by Madoc Fox

  “Run!” Vergil cried “I cannot hold it for long.” But the voice did not issue from the rat; it came from a young soldier. It was the same soldier Oscar had seen before when Vergil was downed by Edmund and in a moment of Vergil’s weakness. Dirty blonde hair flopped down over a lean face, pointed but handsome and his blue eyes carried a sadness of someone three times his years. But now the face was contorted with the effort of holding the Kurjus. More tendrils of blue mist emerged from his body, holding back the black shadow who thrashed ceaselessly but it was clear Vergil was struggling to contain the beast.

  “Run Oscar, take the cat. I will find you.”

  Overcoming his shock the boy darted across the Tor, jumping over stone gullies and scrambling over granite boulders. His feet thumped hard against the ground. The last image he saw looking back was of the young man fighting off the shadowed figure with tendril whips. He was worried for Vergil but equally worried that if that thing got near him again, it would destroy his soul. And though reluctant to desert his comrade, Oscar knew he must think of Josie as well – he had to put some distance between them and the Kurjus.

  Oscar cradled the panic-stricken cat in his arms and ran as though his energy could never fail but he was wrong. He soon grew tired and his resolve weakened until he staggered a few times, tripped and landed on his chest with a whack. He looked around dazed, seeing only a boulder nearby. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage. With his last ounce of strength he crawled to it, cowering under its massive stature for safety. Breathing hard Oscar closed his eyes, his mind unable to even begin to overcome his exhaustion, let alone reconcile the mental impact of what had happened. As inescapably as if being sucked down a whirl pool, the boy was drawn into the warm depths of sleep.

  Chapter 21

  “Wake up... Surely you are not spent yet?” It was Vergil's voice. “Come along now, time is not our luxury.”

  “Uhh. Vergil is that you?” The boy said, relief washing over him. He was still in Etiainheim at least. Gradually he opened his eyes to the half light of dawn.

  “Yes, Oscar, it's me. I followed your trail all night. I must say that I could do with a nap myself.”

  Oscar sat up to look at the rat but it was the young soldier who now sat by his side. He looked more faded than before, drained, as though his conflict with the shadow had sapped the colour from him.

  “You look... rough.”

  “Why thank you. Yes the fight with the Maere was harder than I anticipated. In the end I had to make a run for it.” The young man paused, examining his hands with an inquisitiveness that suggested it had been a long time since he had adopted a human form.

  “There are more you know! Many more Maere than there were once upon a time. It must be a product of the war, that they plague these lands in such numbers. In retrospect we were lucky to travel this far without encountering one. ”

  Oscar was silent. There were so many questions he longed to ask the young man that was Vergil, but was not sure how to start. Fortunately Vergil pre-empted him.

  “I have been in this world a long time now - I died some tens of years ago in fact. I cannot recall exactly how long it has been.

  “You died? You mean, you don’t even exist in my world?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. This is what I used to look like when I was alive, but here I could not bear to be reminded what I had lost. The pain when others like me could recognise me as one of them. It was too much, so I changed. Slowly I managed to manipulate my being, to become what I wanted. I became inconspicuous and more like the Itse. A rat seemed as good a choice as any.”

  “But you did not find your soul?” Guessed Oscar. The man’s head sunk in despair.

  “Unfortunately not.” The man sighed, as though years of repressed memories had flooded in. “I think it is best that I tell you this from the start.” The man arose, walking around whilst he gathered his thoughts.

  “A long time ago when the war was at its height, I was stationed at the front lines. The war had already been going on for years, and, like many before me I was conscripted to a fight that I had no intention of joining. I saw horrible things. Such atrocities were committed by both sides it was hard to tell who held the moral high ground. All I know is that the more I saw of the evils that men were capable of, the less of a man I came to be. I did not realise that such detachment would have consequences beyond my own world. I stopped talking to people, exiling myself from social interaction. The only friendship I allowed was with my company captain, but even he could not stop my descent.”

  The man paused self-conciously.

  “Perhaps this would be easier as I was.” With an effort he tried to transform back to a rat but it seemed his encounter with the Maere had taken its toll, for his face screwed up in pain.

  “Too early” he said to himself before continuing with his story. “After years spent on the front lines, I was finally injured. Blessed release, I thought as I lay dying. How naïve! But the injury was not fatal. It only rendered me infirm and I was sent away from the front lines.”

  “The Institute, it used to be a military infirmary” Oscar exclaimed, making the link.

  “Yes that’s correct. Before it became an Institute that building used to treat and care for soldiers who were physically or mentally traumatised in the war. It was there that I started to see a beauty to life, to see beyond the pointless and ruthless tactics of war. Finally I could see a rugged persistence that fought in the face of adversity; people who dedicated years of their lives tending to the needs of others, forsaking their own greed.” The young man laughed harshly.

  “I’m sorry.” Vergil realised himself. “Irony had a different twist of fate for me. You see, just as I started to see the beauty to life, to engage and to fulfil that connection once again, mine therein ended. An infection I think. But it was too little, too late: the realisation alone was not enough to heal the severed link with my soul.” The man looked desolately at Oscar.

  “Vergil, I am so sorry. Are you sure there is no connection at all, that there is no way to find it? Did you not ache slightly for it?” Oscar asked, unsure as to whether his question was impertinent. Vergil sighed.

  “I am not sure any more. I think I felt something at first but I did not know what it was. For years I thought I was in purgatory, that this was my punishment for a wasted life. By the time I came to realise I was in a sibling world to my own, I had lost all sense of an ache. Maybe I just came to accept it.” Vergil said.

  “But we can still find it Vergil, I’ll help you! Together we can find your soul.” Oscar implored. The man smiled at him sadly.

  “Maybe. That is good of you but I fear it would be harder than you think. And keeping you here longer than necessary will saddle you with a fate worse than my own. It is within our will only to bend the rules. Besides, I have come to terms with my lot and tried to make amends for a hopeless, loveless life. I fight off the Maere whenever I can, having seeing the pain they cause.” He shook his head. “But I can never truly best them, only force them to move on. I have watched over that Institute for many years, I protected it.” He looked at the boy whose empathy had left him feeling distraught.

  “But never mind, there are bigger problems to be resolved. Let us return to the quest at hand. We are closing in Oscar, we are very near now. You must steel yourself for the next encounter with Edmund. Hopefully with your soul, we can defeat a Maere once and for all.” The man now exuded confidence, a bravado which perfectly suited his new, human appearance. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rodent form he had once assumed. Despite Vergil's worsened condition, Oscar felt happier to see the truer side of his companion.

  With Vergil now walking as a human once more, the three continued along their journey. The moors had come to an abrupt end and they soon found themselves traversing a much harder, rocky terrain. All the while Vergil's words rang in Oscar’s ears. They would soon be upon Edmund and it would be up to Oscar to rise to the challenge. Despite Vergil’
s confidence in him, Oscar was worried. He had no idea how he could best Edmund’s Maere and if he lost this time it was not just his mind that would be injured: his soul’s fate would be at stake.

  The trio continued to walk in silence and as dawn greeted them they came to view a landscape more desolate still than anything they had yet encountered. Just looking at it Oscar knew they must be nearing their destination, for no hope resided here. The soil was barren and rocky so that not even the most resilient of life forms dared occupy the lands. Off to one side Oscar could hear the distant sound of artillery fire, whilst flashes erupted in the sky and the wind carried forth wisps of smoke. Specks of ash rained down, coating the ground completely in a fine, white powder. Oscar could see balloons far in the distance, close to the artillery fire; huge floating colossal structures that appeared as Gods looming down from the heavens. Blue lightning bolts arced from one to another, causing the latter to burst into flames and plummet as a meteoric fire ball down toward the earth.

  “Is that the war?” Oscar asked in trepidation. Vergil nodded solemnly. Even as Oscar watched, more specks floated past the balloons as souls and minds joined upon death and became free from the earth. The conflict raged on and Oscar was thankful that they were not heading directly toward it. Instead they strode across the barren lands towards a more immediate confrontation of their own.

  An ash haze returned in time with the breaking dawn and the sky developed a desolate glow so that it felt to Oscar as though they were walking into oblivion. With every step the flat landscape changed, as though a series of channels had been gauged into the earth. They came eventually to a slope which heading sharply downwards into a steep ravine littered with small figures.

  At the mouth of the slope a small rag doll sat limply. Oscar rushed forward in surprise, for he recognised it instantly as one of the toys Edmund had coerced into following him. But the hope that he had felt as he approached it soon disintegrated entirely. The doll, if it could be called that any more, had now lost all the innocent qualities that had once upon a time had made it a toy. The formerly joyful face was grotesque, with sticky, black tar leaking from the corners of the mouth and all the once vibrant colours of its clothing were marred with filth and blackness. At first Oscar recoiled, wary of touching the creepy doll. Yet on reflection he found he felt more pity than fear. Curious now, he reached his hand into his pocket lingering over the key and stretched the other hand out to reluctantly touch the toy.

  “What? What do you want? Leave me alone! I don't want anything to do with you or anyone, just leave me alone. Alone. Alone.”

  “It is us, it’s Oscar, we stay with you at the Institute. Let us help you.”

  “I don’t want help, no help, never help. Just leave me! All alone with no one to love... and no one to love me. No one cares.” The doll looked up at Oscar, tar bleeding from its button eyes.

  “No!” He thought frantically. “No, that is wrong. There is always someone, you just need to look. Don't give up hope. We can help you.”

  “But my mind, it is so far. I cannot feel it anymore. Without it everything seems senseless, just pain and misery, there is no way out. Go away.”

  “It has not yet left you, look inside, you will find a way to get to it. Please, just try.” The boy thought for a second “When I get back to the Institute I can help, I will find your mind I will help it look for you. Just hold on…”

  “Just leave me alone!” The doll jerked slightly, falling silent. Its head bowed to the ground, it said nothing more and Oscar could only look at it helplessly. There was no way he could get through. Helping people was so much harder if they could not help themselves. Disheartened, he began to draw his hand from his pocket.

  “Please do not leave me!” The doll looked up suddenly, surprising Oscar. He answered encouragingly.

  “We promise we will help you, but there are others that need help too. We need to continue to fight this, but you must have the will yourself to turn away. Do not relent, do not give in to them. Go back to the Institute if you can, else stay here and we will return for you. It will be alright. Just be strong.”

  ***

  Oscar could feel that they were close. The evil odour was so ripe in the air that Vergil's guidance was no longer necessary. They journeyed down the slope and into the gaping jaws of the ravine, whose mouth was as wide as it was ominous. Its cliffs towered increasingly above them the further they descended the dark slope, leaning in as though to block out the sky far above. The faces of the sides were hidden in shadow and a cool breeze passed over Oscar, faintly bringing with it the sound of a distant roar. He hesitated.

  “Do not fret, I will stay by your side.” Vergil reassured Oscar, sensing the boy’s nervousness. The slope seemed never ending, and – whether it was the slow pace with which Oscar led the way or the imposing landscape playing on his mind - Oscar became more anxious with each step. His sense of foreboding was soon justified however, as the familiar bone chilling shriek of the vultures sounded overhead.

  Looking up, Oscar could see the outline of the scavengers peering over the cliff’s edge. He reacting quickly, soon followed by Vergil and the cat as he darted over to the walls of the ravine, pinning himself against them to remain as undetectable as possible. After a tense few minutes Oscar assured himself that they had not been seen even though somehow their presence had drawn those dreadful birds. Staying in the shadows of the overhanging walls, the trio edged along the cliff face keeping a wary eye out for the vultures.

  Suddenly there arose an almighty screeching as the whole flock called in unison. Oscar glanced up in shock as the birds dropped from high overhead, bombing in formation and swooping down into the chasm. Oscar recoiled immediately, his heart in his mouth but somehow the direction was wrong. To Oscar's relief they swooped overhead, aiming for a target deeper into the ravine. But if they were not after him, then who else.

  The knight! Oscar released in an instant it must be the Master; he was the only other soul that had ever dared oppose them. Breaking cover and sprinting along the stone gully, Oscar shouted for Vergil and the cat to follow. Already he could see the vultures swooping towards the ground, clearly closing in on their prey. With a last burst of exertion Oscar rounded a bend in the gully and finally, from a distance, could see the knight readied for the onslaught. His armour was badly rusted and he was kneeling, one arm holding his shield over his helm for protection as the other arm hung disabled by his side. The flock of scavengers descended. Landing one by one to form a semicircle around the lone champion, they squawked at him mockingly. The larger lead vulture landed directly opposite the knight, who had lowered his shield. For just a second Oscar was certain he perceived both Head Matron Clarke and the foul bird occupying the same space.

  “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 th
e 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.