SHANEGORMLEY

As they ran further into the meadow Oscar began to notice that there was more colour here. Slowly, deeper shades of green crept into the grasses and every now and then a small flower would blossom in a bright shade of orange, red or pink. Unfortunately their guide was darting in so many different directions it was impossible to focus on anything else for even a small length of time. Just as they were beginning to think that Larc had lost his way again he stopped abruptly and scratched thoughtfully at his lumpy nose. “It’s somewhere around here I think,” he muttered under his breath. Oscar glanced around. There was nothing indistinguishable between this spot and any other they had chased through already. “What are you looking for?” asked Oscar as he watched Larc survey the ground with pointed interest.

 

“The waybearer,” replied Larc, “I know it’s here somewhere.” He bowed forward like he had when he had introduced himself letting his head dangle inches from the ground and continued his search. Oscar watched with confusion as he scuttled around on his stunted, footless, little legs whilst he pawed at the ground, pulling up grass, flowers and weeds.

 

“Look at this,” said Rowan, who was leaning up against a withered old tree nearby. He was tossing a stone up and down in one hand. As Oscar approached he threw it to him. The stone was a hue of darkest green and cold as ice. Oscar flipped it over in his hands, noticing that it was a perfectly smooth oval. “Weird, isn’t it?” asked Rowan.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look like any stone I’ve seen before,” said Oscar. He stared intently at it, examining it all over. It felt heavy in the palm of his hand. “What do you think Larc is looking for?”

 

“I honestly have no idea. I’m not even sure we should be following him, he seems a little confused. Whose to say he even know where he’s going. I mean look at him.”

Oscar glanced round and saw that Larc was now floating upside down. His neck was bent at a ninety degree angle so that he could still survey the ground and his spindly arms were dangling limply beneath him like twisted shadows.

 

“Humans don’t do that,” yelled Rowan. He kicked the dirt in frustration. “You’re doing a terrible job of making us feel at ease. All you’ve managed to do is get us lost in a field.” Rowan snatched the dark green stone from Oscar’s grasp and flung it at Larc with all his might. The stone passed right through his upturned midriff as though he wasn’t there but Larc suddenly collapsed to the ground in a painful heap.

 

“Are you okay?” cried Oscar, running over to the Entine’s side. Larc made no reply but merely gazed up unblinkingly with his small hollow eyes. “What’s wrong with him? What have you done?” cried Oscar. Rowan had come running over too when he saw Larc collapse.

 

“I, I, I,” he stammered, “I didn’t know that would happen, did I? It was only a stone.”

 

“Well what the hell were you doing throwing a weird rock at our guide? Now what are we going to do?”

 

“Just calm down, okay? He’s probably fine.” Larc still lay motionless on the ground. Not even his uncontrollable nose was moving any more.

 

“He’s dead,” whispered Oscar kneeling down beside the Entine. “What are we going to do? You killed our guide.”

 

“Larc,” said Rowan in a voice little more than a whimper. “Larc. Larc.” He tried to shake their strange little guide by the shoulders but his hands passed straight through him. “Larc,” he bellowed. Panic was beginning to set in. He jumped to his feet. “The rock. Where’d it go?” He scurried off in the direction the stone had fallen, crawling through the grass on his hands and knees.

 

“What are we going to do?” Oscar asked himself. “How can we find the academy without our guide? They will probably throw us out or kill us even if we do find it.” Oscar slumped to the ground beside the Entine, staring at his lifeless body. He was so translucent that Oscar could still make out the grass underneath him.

 

Rowan returned with the stone clenched in his hand. “This has to work,” he said and before he began to explain he held the stone up to Larc’s statuesque body. Nothing happened. Rowan looked at Oscar. “I was certain that would do something,” he sighed. Oscar had been staring down at the ground too afraid to watch.

 

“Here, let me try,” he offered. He took the stone from Rowan and cupped it in his hands. He brought it up to his lips and whispered softly. Please, he begged, you have to wake up. Slowly Oscar moved the stone to touch Larc. His hand shook as he held it out. The stone passed through where Larc’s skin should be and sank deep into his belly. Oscar could feel a strange warmth within the pale creatures stomach that made the tips of his fingers tingle. He turned away, once more unable to watch, too afraid of what might happen. He closed his eyes tight and focused on what he could feel. Now his hands were shaking so violently it felt as though they were vibrating and the warmth that he had felt when he first touched Larc had turned into a burning sensation.

 

“Look,” said Rowan and Oscar opened his eyes. The dark green of the stone was shimmering with a molten yellow core that swirled like liquid gold. Oscar gasped in disbelief and it was all he could do to hold onto the stone. With every passing second the heat intensified and the vibrating grew fiercer. “Don’t let go,” urged Rowan as he noticed the sweat beginning to form on Oscar’s brow as his attempt to hold on to the stone became unbearable. For an instant the stone flashed, a brilliant golden surge, flaring with so much heat that Oscar screamed and dropped it. The stone fell through Larc and landed on the grass beneath him, turning instantly dark green again.

 

Larc sat up with a start. “What are you looking at?” he queried as he saw his two charges staring down at him. He followed their gaze through his stomach and noticed the stone. “The waybearer,” he cried, jumping up and snatching it. As he went to touch the rock a malformed trio of stubby fingers protruded from his pointed limb and clumsily hooked around it. “I told you I’d find it,” he declared cheerfully. “I am the trusted Welcomer after all.”

 

Oscar and Rowan looked at one another, too confused for words. “This is most peculiar indeed,” said Larc, as he tapped at the stone with one of his newly formed fingers. “The way is not being bared.”

 

“What’s supposed to happen?” asked Rowan sheepishly.

 

“It’s supposed to bare the way, that’s why it’s called the waybearer. Sometimes I worry about you humans. You’re not that bright.” Larc resumed tapping at the stone as though somehow it would fix the broken internal mechanism.

 

“We have to tell you something,” said Oscar. “We used up the waybearer. Rowan threw it at you and you froze or something, then I held it to you and it woke you up, but it flashed really bright and then I dropped it. See, it burned me.” He held up the palm of his hand to show Larc the deep crimson burn that had blossomed there.

 

“Impossible,” grumbled Larc. “No human can interact with the waybearer. They were made by the ancients, only Entines can use them.” He looked at Oscar’s burnt palm and his eyebrows rose and sank like a pair of awkward caterpillars. Finally he spoke, “if you did somehow use the waybearer we must wait for it to recharge.” With the stone clutched tightly in his hand he sat cross legged on the ground and closed his eyes as though deep in contemplation.

 

“Larc, what happened when the waybearer went through you?” asked Rowan. The Entine didn’t reply. “Larc, what happened? Tell me. I demand to know what’s going on here.” This time Larc’s eyes flashed open. His small beady eyes now shone with a piercing blue light that gave Larc’s featureless face an ominous look.

 

“You do not demand anything Rowan Ward. You are new here and I will forgive you your ignorance this once, but do not presume that such idiotic actions will be tolerated henceforth. You are my now my charge and as such you will act in accordance with my judgement.” There was a long, silent pause where Oscar could hear the blood thrumming in his ear. “You will soon realise that in this Kingdom there are dire consequences for your actions no matter how insignificant they may seem. The safety of the world you left behind is a nothing but a distant memory for you now. This realm is traumatised by an endless feud against an enemy that can never be vanquished. I do not say these words lightly; already your prolonged presence outside of our walls has no doubt drawn unwanted attention and compromised the safety of our entire academy. Do not make me warn you again.” The last words Larc spoke hung in the air like a cold chill. As he finished speaking his eyes faded to their usual black hollow pits.

 

“What did you mean by that Larc?” asked Rowan.

 

“Oh no, that wasn’t me. That was Avagar. He’s the master of the academy, a very wise and powerful Entine. You would do well to heed his warning.”

 

“Are we in danger here?”

“You will learn that and much more soon enough, but it is not my place to say. I am but a simple Welcomer. I am not permitted to speak of such things; that is a duty best saved for more learned Entines.”

 

“But we must know if we’re in danger. We’re defenceless and out in the open. Tell him Oscar, we need to know now, don’t we?”

 

“Whether or not I tell you what lurks in the nether makes no difference. Avagar will protect us here.”

 

“Is Avagar God?” asked Oscar in a hushed voice. Larc burst into an uncontrollable chuckle.

 

“You humans,” he said, still laughing, “always asking about a God. Tell me, what would you do if I said yes?” Oscar and Rowan looked at one another again, hoping the other would speak first. “What if I told you there was a God, but it was not the God you worshipped? What if I told you there were many Gods and they are each warring with one another, each willing to turn your blood and bones into dust so that they can rule alone?” When neither Oscar nor Rowan responded Larc snapped, “Exactly! The last one I welcomed thought I was God, at first anyway, until I stumbled into that hornet nest and got chased through the swamp; then she realised I wasn’t. But my point is it makes no difference. God is a notion. A thought that helps console your uneasy minds as your bodies slowly fade and decay. There is an afterlife and here you are. Isn’t that what you wanted? A reprieve from the great nothingness of death. I promise you though this is no paradise, far from it.” He trailed off and stared blankly forward, clearly remembering something, perhaps from eons past.

 

            Several hours went by before Larc twitched back into the present. The moon now hung so low in the sky that it looked as though it was almost touching the tip of the surrounding mountains, yet the light it cast had not brightened; in fact it seemed to have smeared a waxy film over the landscape giving the meadow a gloomy haze. Oscar could also make out a thick fog rolling down from the mountains, cascading through the forest and emerging like tentacles in search of prey. The fog bought with it a cold that bit to the bone and made Oscar’s teeth chatter. Rowan had attempted to collect some kindling to make a small fire but the effort had proved futile as they had no means to light the sticks. Without warning Larc turned to them with a lopsided smile that seemed oblivious to their current situation. He slowly hobbled over to them with all the grace and poise of a toddler taking his first unsteady steps.

 

“I suppose you were right about me not acting like a human,” he said. “Perhaps Avagar’s message was intended as much for me as it was for you. I must try harder.” Oscar smiled at the Entine, happy to see that he had returned to his usual self. “Well you could help us light a fire,” said Oscar. “We haven’t been able to light it.” Larc looked down to see the small pile of kindling and his small beady eyes widened with horror. He kicked at the would-be fire with one of his stunted legs and sent the sticks scattering.

 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded. “A fire would draw even more attention. You heard Avagar. We’ve caused enough trouble without lighting signal fires.”

 

“Please,” begged Rowan, “look at Oscar, he’s shivering to death.”

 

“I’m sorry Oscar,” said Larc looking at the boy, “but there are things lurking out there. Bad things.”

 

“Like what Larc? Please, you have to tell us,” beseeched Rowan. Larc glanced from left to right making sure no one was there to over hear him.

 

“Daemons,” he whispered. A chill shot up Oscar’s spine at the word. Daemons. “That is all I will tell you, so don’t ask any more because I’m not speaking another word,” finished Larc. He turned to watch the fog which was rolling ever closer.

 

“What is that fog?” asked Rowan.

 

“I just told you not to ask anything else of me. Avagar will not be happy if I fill your head with tales.”

 

“I’m not asking about the… the daemons. I just want to know about the fog. It looks like it’s heading right for us.” Oscar looked up, his teeth still chattering and he saw what Rowan meant. The tendrils of fog were twisting this way and that as though feeling blindly for something in the meadow.

 

“Don’t worry,” reassured Larc, “I think it’s coming from Alpena.” Noticing the blank expressions on Rowan and Oscar’s faces he added, “The Entine city, some of your kind refer to it as the Soul City. It was the first settlement made in this Kingdom, a beacon of hope and strength atop Mount Digens.”

 

“What is it looking for?” asked Oscar trembling with fear and cold alike. “Demons?”

 

“No. It’s looking for you,” said Larc turning round to look at his young companions. As he finished speaking the first wispy tendrils of the fog were already licking at their ankles. Oscar felt a coil slip around his shin and crawl up his leg. He stared at Rowan in horror watching him fight against his own hazy tentacle as though he was watching him on TV. Oscar was too consumed with terror to move, he stood statuesque as the strange apparition wriggled up his body, wrapping itself around his legs, torso and arms leaving only his head exposed. With wide eyes he watched as Rowan was subdued by a second phantom limb of fog. It pulled him to the ground and bound his arms tightly to his body while the first tendril continued up his legs and chest and finally masked his face. A scream pierced the foggy dusk of the meadow, a long, piercing scream. Oscar was in such distress he was unsure if it had been him or Rowan who had screamed. Automatically his body began jerking and twitching in his tight constraints as he tried to fight free but the fog had bound him too tightly.

The last thing he saw were Larc’s black beady eyes as he felt the tendril slither up his neck and envelop his head. “Do not struggle,” was the final warning Oscar heard Larc mutter as he was knocked to the ground with a heavy lurch. In complete darkness he was vaguely aware of the sound of his own restricted breathing and a slow, powerful force tugging him through the long, dew covered grass. Then, not for the first time that day Oscar slipped into blurry unconsciousness.