Rabbits and birds appeared from thin air and fire danced at his command. The air swelled with thunderous ecstasy as the crowd cried for more and he was just getting started. With a wave of his hand the houselights dimmed and a hush fell over the stalls, a brilliant blue spotlight shone over a mysterious box. Opening the door he beckoned his beautiful assistant inside before picking up a gleaming sword.
The sound of birdsong roused Wilson, a dull sleepy confusion hampered his thoughts as he retreated within the cocoon of blankets that enveloped him in its soft warmth. '... Wait! What is this!? I was in a forest, how am I in a bed?... Was it just a horridly vivd dream?' A ting of joy blossomed within him - it was over he was home safe and sound.
Untangling himself from the blanket his heart sank he wasn't home after all, he was in a small moss green tent with little more then the bundle of blankets incapsulating him. Moving to stand he winced in pain. 'Oh the bite, how could I forget.' A shiver ran down his spine as the memory of that thing attacking him came to the forefront. 'What was it Maxwell had called it?.. Charlie, far too human a name for such a monster.' Tugging the sheets away from his injured leg he found someone had cleaned and bandaged the wound, rising a hand to his temple his fevered temperature had also subsided. 'Well, it seems my luck finally turned but I wonder who found me.'
As relieved as he was for the life saving help the stark change in circumstance nurtured an anxious weight in the pit of his stomach accompanied by lingering fears, could he trust anything in a world created by a madman for bloodsport? Getting, rather unsteadily, to his feet he made to leave the stuffy confides of the tent, while hoping meeting his saviour would undoubtedly put this to rest these perturbed thoughts. Peeping out the coarse clothe door Wilson winced at the brilliant sunlight peeking through rare pockets of celestial blue in the normally overcast sky and falling onto a picturesque campsite. A large fire pit lined with river stones stood at the epicentre with cooking equipment hung overhead on thin wooden frames surrounded by three logs benches forming a triangle, everything was expertly crafted with a keen and delicate eye, even the log benches had been smoothed down - a bastion of civility in this bleak wilderness. Wide eyed he gawked at the sight before becoming aware of his lack of manners and mentally scolding himself - not that it mattered there wasn't another soul to be found.
Wilson stretched in the the soothing sun beams while bird song and the gurgling sound of a stream not too far made the forest much less menacing. The sound of running water brought urgency to Wilson's raw throat, it left as if he hadn't drank a drop in days. 'All that time trudging on I didn't see a hint of water. Well that hardly warrants worry now I should just be thankful I survived at all.' Hobbling through the undergrowth Wilson followed the cascading din, the little stream bubbled and swelled as its banks widened, craving a small valley into the landscape. The vale was a flurry of life with birds singing in the trees and tiny rabbit like creatures scurrying between the fruit laden bushes pulling at the leafy heads of vegetables peeking out of the earth. Wilson stopped to examine one of the dusty orange mammals, they looked very much like fluffy hares from his world apart from a set of antlers which looked far too flimsy for combat and determined they were probably for choosing a mate.
As much as he wanted to take account of each strange variation of animals and plants his parched throat resumed its burning protest, also he lacked anything to note his findings on. Turning back down the stream he could see it open up into a deeper river in a clearing not much further down.
The brook sparkled in the midday sun, sliding himself down besides the bank he cupped the cool crisp water, no water had ever tasted so sweet as it soothed the fire in his throat. Sitting there staring out at the water he could not have asked for a more picturesque scene, the deep river gracefully wove through the land, hugged by banks covered in a myriad of perfumed flowers while butterflies glided almost weightless on the gentle breeze.
Removing his shoes he slipped his feet into the brisk waters, this wasn't something he'd done since he was a young lad, when he'd spend the high summers learning to camp with his father. Truth be told he'd never truly enjoyed the rough camping, though he was thankful now, his father had been a professor of biology keen to pass on his love of the world to his only son. The lectures on the droves of wild animals they'd find from the tiny beetles that scurried under rocks to the majestic deer captivated Wilson and birthed his insatiable hunger for knowledge. Even now as a butterfly landed on his knee he could almost hear his fathers voice, a small smile creeped across his face as the fond memories washed over him.
"See there Wilson, its hatching." A calloused hand pointed to a cocoon a bug as squirming to escape before flopping out and laying on a stone.
"Why isn't it flying?"
"In time, its need to dry off but look at the patterns they look like eyes its a form of mimicry to scare off predators such as birds and lizards."
"I want to keep him as a pet, he'd be safe home right?"
"I'm afraid it wouldn't last long, they only live for half a year once they pupate."
"But.. but thats so short isn't there anything we can do for him?" The boys face fell, nothing could be happy with only six months to live.
"No son its the nature of things, they have short lives like a candle in the wind but they live gloriously sailing the wind vast distances. There are some insects that only live a day but in time they'll live a whole life, maybe more so then some people" Picking up the boy he smiled down at the young innocent face wiping away the tears that snaked down his cheeks. "Never mourn a short life if it is used wisely and wholly."
A harsh birds squawk woke Wilson from his self induced trance, it was already dusk. 'How could I have lost so much time? I have to get back, quickly.' The memories of the attack bore sharply into the forefront of his mind, sending shivers throughout his body as he tried to cast the visions aside. The chilled breeze of the coming night broke up the summer air as he quickly made his way back, his leg had already begun to feel better for all the squandered hours at least the pain had subsided. As he moved on he wondered about whoever had saved him, and whether they'd be annoyed at his wandering off not that they'd had the curtsy to greet him. He could almost laugh at himself at how much he craved company, back home he had done his utmost to remove himself from the general happenings of the town and the people that dwelt within, to the point of moving to a run down cottage in the woods. Now was a different story others meant safety and dare he say idle companionship to bolster oneself against the ever looming dark that even now clawed at his strained nerves.
By the time he reached camp twilight had fallen across the land, casting the camp in a rich purple hue speckled with the glow of fireflies. Aside from the fireflies the camp was still and appeared devoid of life, 'Maybe they're sleeping?' He edged as close to the tent as he dared without seeming impertinent, but he could defiantly hear something inside.
"Hello?" He called in a oddly hushed by his apprehension, he was half unwilling to wake any occupants of the only tent in the camp, his chest tightened at the thought was spending the night outside with that yearning wall of nothingness. He cleared his throat and called out again. "I'd like to thank for your for aid."
No response but the curious sounds seemed to become more frequent. Looking over his shoulder the sun dipped perilously close to the edge of the world, with sweat slickened hands he pulled back a small corner of the cloth acting as a door, even in his distress a small voice fumed at his discourteous behaviour.
"I beg your pardon sir or.." Heaven forbid. "..madam I couldn't quite hear you."
The cloth fell away and the 'something' stirred with a muffled noise amongst the bundles of blankets. Wilson's face flushed red with embarrassment quickly looking down to his shoes away from the figure trying to crawl out of the covers.
"Ah erm.. I'm terribly sorry I-I didn't mean to wake.."
His sentence was cut short as a large turkey like creature bounded out of the tent. He stared at it with dumbfounded disbelief as the animal pecked around the ground a vapid look plastered across its blank bulbous eyes unconcerned with his presence. Wilson took a step forward which startled it, sending the portly beast bouncing into the bushes, rather quickly for its generous girth, unperturbed by the ever growing darkness. A small self-deprecating chuckle made his chagrin evident, he was almost relived but at the same time bitterly disappointed it looked like he'd be alone a while longer. At least until the owner of the site returned which had to be soon. As much as he wanted to reassure himself he couldn't help forming a small ball of worry in the bit of his stomach. 'I'm sure their fine, evidently they know how to live in the wild look at this place. Anyway its seems the creatures are quite tame around here.. Theres nothing to get so bothered about.. I'm sure their fine. Definitely..'
He turned to the sky, it seemed pretty late now and he was anxious to get a fire going as he face another solitary guard tonight. The stone fire pit was deep enough for a fair amount of kindling and seems protected enough to stop even a bonfire from going out of control. Maybe just maybe he would actually sleep tonight rather then fretful watching a tiny flame threaten to die and plunge him into nothingness while his tired mind created waking dreams of watchers in the dark bidding him to join them.
Besides the fire pit was stack of freshly cut logs they were marred with nicks and grazes of ill aimed hits with a rough tool, pushing these into the pit it seemed like there was plenty for the night. Placing in some dried grass, for good measure, as tinder he searched his pockets for the flint and iron he'd been using to ignite the fires on his fevered march. Rummaging through all his pockets proved fruitless they were missing, the lose struck WIlson deeply not that he needed them to make the fire, he had learnt how to get by with little both when camping and the long winter nights back at his cottage when the rickety boiler would frequently fail. It wasn't even the flint he cared for it was the iron, such a unassuming item he had without thinking pocketed during his last experiment, before he had heard the baleful voice of Maxwell, it was his little piece of home.
Chest fallen looked around for some twigs to get the fire started when he notice a large heavy looking box just by the tent, had that always been there surely he should have seen it earlier? Prying open the crate revealed it to be filled with provisions, more bandages, a worn out stone axe he assumed had been used to get the logs, a pile of flint piece, dried food stuffs and a small bundle wrapped in a red silk cloth. Snatching up the package he found it contained a minuscule chunk of iron, he delicately caressed the nodules and marks from repeated use as familiar as an old friend. 'So it appears my rescuer looted my pockets.' The thought made him feel oddly violated also why was this wrapped in silk, seemed pretty strange for what could be mistaken for hunk of rock? He would have to question this later, for the time being he pushed the thoughts aside putting the flint and iron to good use getting a roaring fire started. The merry flames warmed his bones as he hauled himself unto the log seating picking at some dried meat strips from the box to quell his growling stomach, as he waited for the return of new companion. As the sun finally fell away from the world and the moon all but glimpsed through scattered breaks in the eternal mist as the creeping darkness encircled the camp, he retreated to the safety of the tent. Burying himself under the numerous blankets he hoped nothing untoward had happened to the stranger.
The next morning greeted Wilson as graciously as the last, the summer heat incapsulated the world and birdsong filled the air. Stepping out with a stiff limp his heart did little to reflect pleasant air as the encampment proved as still as ever, with a heavy sigh he reserved himself to the likely possibility no one was coming, he knew all too well what staked the night. Taking stock of the available supplies he found there to be plenty for some time, more then he realised the night before.
"I guess I should make the most of this, at least until my health improves." He noticed he had begun to speak aloud again, a habit at one time he'd tried to stop, now he feared he would never again in this socially barren landscape hear a voice without this quirk. Picking up the worn axe, the chipped stone crumbling from his touch - it wasn't going to be bringing down anymore trees but it gave him an idea. "Hmm this would be quite simple to improve."
The next few days were mostly uneventful with Wilson working on making a more effective axe by day and cowering in the tent at night. Knapping the necessary flint was hard going and the hours spent under searing sun beating the stones strengthened Wilson's distaste for geology, how dull are those who squabble over how old the Earth is when there was so much to learn about how it works - damn the age of dirt. After a few failed attempts Wilson inspected his creation with almost parental pride, keen and light the robust hatchet cleanly cut throw a log he setup as a test. As it hung from a rope holder he'd crafted, from the surprisingly durable long grass twisted into a sturdy form, the weight made him feel safer.
That night before the glow of the flames he pondered his next project, when it struck him - what he should have been thinking about from the start, a way home. He cast his mind back to that room he'd spent days labouring over that machine, that cursed machine that brought him here. The muscles in his fingered twitched in remembrance of the intricate workings and knowledge that still lingered in the recesses of his mind, he could build another to get him back. Burning a piece of charcoal and cutting a piece of excess clothe from a blanket he began to scribble diagrams for reverse engineering the infernal machine and escape this nightmare.
The new dawn broke long before Wilson finished his plans and list of materials, some would be easy to acquire but others would prove remarkably difficult, such as large amounts of iron and steel. The chances of him finding such materials were slim even if he did they'd be ore so a smelter would be needed if a substitute couldn't be found, there was also the issue of precision tools for delicate gears. Though as improbable as it seemed it wasn't impossible and he had nothing to lose from trying.
Over the next couple of weeks, with the aid of properly made walking stick and a pickaxe made in a similar fashion to his hatchet, Wilson ventured out into the wilds noting down resources and taking samples to study back at camp. He found himself feeling content, the routine making him feel at ease despite initial distain in admitting geology had its place, at least in a primitive hellhole like this. It reminded him of his work at home, even falling into similar routines of fuming by the fire after mishaps, the frivolous notes and the heady satisfaction as he took a step closer to his goal. However this equanimity was not a true repose, each night he'd still be wary of the ever present wall of darkness greedily waiting for the light barrier to fade. Anxiously waiting for daybreak and chiding himself for starting at every sound, for all the comforts of the campsite his eyes remained shadowed.
As time marched on he found himself relying less on the cane as his leg healed, able to work much faster his supplies multiplied at a tremendous rate. He'd already began working on the tools he'd need knapping more flint, keening and shaping edges for hours until perfection was achieved. Slowing the beginnings of new machine formed, then one evening as he went over equations a uninvited guest turned up at his camp.
"Say pal.."
Wilson's back stiffened, that voice was all too familiar, hoping against hope it was just an illusion from his company starved mind, dread permeated through him as turned to face Maxwell. The firelight played off his stark features adding menace to his twisted grin as stepped towards Wilson, his shadow looming over as it flittered between the pines. He strolled over to the base of the machine, not care to avoid stepping on the its cog innards spread across the ground.
"..looks like you've been taking advantage of my generous hospitality."
"Your hospitality. What kind of outlandish statement is that." He spat, a hand resting on the hilt of his trusty axe as he eyed his creation warily. "What are you doing here?"
Truth be know he didn't truly need to ask as the feeling of dread settled over him and paranoid thoughts shrieked throughout his mind. He had been toyed with, this hospitality was just another part of the game, a brief respite to prolong and deepen his torment. Now Wilson had healed Maxwell was ready to throw him to the wolves once more.
"I'm here to help of course." He paused as he inspected his nails continuing in a calm voice. "Nasty business that infection you had, I do wonder my friend where you planned to run off in such a sorry state?" He glanced back at Wilson whose only response was a look of indignation, with a tsk he prattled on. "Normally I wouldn't dirty my hands with you people but you forced my hand, how could I allow the show to end on such a pathetic whimper. You see I decide when you can die, and you haven't earned that right yet."
Wilson's stare faltered as Maxwell's bore to the scientist, the placid look in his eyes as he spoke of such malicious intent was more petrifying then any amount of anger fill threats. he was so precise, so absolutely sure in his control, that nothing in Wilson's power could stop him, it was inhuman.
"Why.. why are you doing this?"
"There are certain obligations I must fulfil, that's more than you need to know."
"Obligations? For who?"
"Your petty questions are tiresome as have your petty attempts at escape." He studied Wilson a raised eyebrow as the others breath caught in his throat. "Oh you thought I didn't know, how quaint. No I've been amusing myself watching as you scurried about making that thing, you know what they say hope is the best spice for despair." Maxwells form seemed to blur and shift as long shadowy taloned hands snaked across the ground collecting into a large quivering mass. "You know nothing of this world here I am king and reign absolute. You don't even understand the rules of the game you're playing."
The squirming aggregation of darkness rose to form a fearsome wolf-like creature, its massive snarling maw lined with razor sharp teeth supported by the bulging muscles of its heavy frame. It eyed him hungrily as it pawed the ground in anticipation, instinctively Wilson grabbed his axe - it seemed this was what the creature was waiting for.
At breakneck speed it charged, pinning him to the ground with tremendous force - were all the creatures here of herculean strength? He'd only just held it back by the blunt of the axe pressing into the matted coarse fur of it neck. Silvia dripped onto his face as the hound snapped bear trap like jaws to finish him, the rancid aroma of its breath watering his eyes. WIlson pushed back with all his might but he was no match in this contest of brawn, his arms shook in protest, ready to snap at any moment as it bared down on him. There was only one thing to do, mustering his remaining strength he kicked the hounds underbelly as hard as he could. The hound jolted easing off as it caught its breath just long enough for Wilson to throw dirt in its eyes, with a pained whine the wolf creature stumbled backwards desperately trying to scrap the muck from its eyes. Jumping to his feet Wilson rushed the beast, with a cry swinging the axe with all his might, burying it into the side of its neck.
The hound reared up yowling towards the night sky as warm blood poured from the wound from where the hatchet drank deeply. Stumbling off it collapsed gurgling on its own lifeblood it struggled for air, its great head faced him as the laboured pants stirred up the dry dust. All he could do was stand there for what seemed like an eternity as the floor turned crimson under the moonlight. Before the whimpering stilled and eyes dulled with its last rattled breath, it was a afraid.
His hands shook with adrenaline that yet coursed through his veins as he yanked the axe from the body, the fresh ichor gleaming in the firelight. Looking back at the dishevelled form an ill feeling gripped at him, did it truly fear death or was he just anthropomorphising the creature? The sound of clapping bought him back to the present, spinning on the the spot he faced Maxwell, the raised axe glinting with devilish yearning. Maxwell seemed unperturbed by the gesture slowly approaching with that same damn smile plastered across his face he leaned down towards the smaller male.
"It looks like my efforts weren't in vain, good. I do hope you can keep this up pal."
"So thats it, I'm to fight for your amusement? Thats why you had me build that machine? Is there nothing more to then a monster, why shouldn't i just end you now! End this loathsome game!" He shook with anger but couldn't swing, did he truly want to know what drove this man, was he truly so weak he had to understand this man who oozed evil? Sickened by himself the rage in his eyes intensified, which was not lost on Maxwell.
Maxwell's smile slipped as a dispassionate expression, so alien compared to his usual stance, took hold. "There are more layers to this world then you see, in time you'll come to understand the true nature of things but for now survive as long as you can."
Bone chilling howls called out from the forest as Maxwell's dreadful harbingers marched forth. Beads of sweat ran down Wilson's forehead and his heart began to palpitate as fear extinguished his rage, as a single hushed word escaped his trembling lips. ".. No."
"Well it looks like act two is ready to start, forgive my rudeness I have other matters to attend to." With that the man bowed his farewell before evaporating into plumes of black smoke.
Time seemed to slow as the savage cries bellowed out from all directions trapping him in a cage of sound. Panic rose from his gullet as the formidable footfalls relentlessly pushed on, he had barely survived an attack from one there was no way he could take on a pack. He had to flee but where? Not into the endless darkness but where? Suddenly like a bolt of clarity the thought struck him. 'Of course the trees! The hulking things are surely too heavy to climb, it's my best chance.' Running to the closest pine he clambered up at full tilt, paying no heed to the rough bark that tore his palms to sunder.
Several meters up Wilson tentatively perched himself on one of the broader branches and watched five hounds burst into the clearing. They skidded to a halt, kicking up large clouds of dust, upon finding their prey was absent, with vexed growls they searched the camp while ignoring the dead hound. Picking up the scent they made a beeline for Wilson's tree, heaving their large bodies against the trunk, claws scaring the bark. For all their prowess in hunting they could not climb the pine, Wilson nearly laughed at the inept creatures as they mindlessly slammed themselves again and again into the sturdy wood. All he had to do now was wait for them to tire or possibly render themselves senseless with how they were carrying on.
Jostling each other for space they began to fight and snap at each other, the larger catching the weakest by the scruff of its nape, throwing it aside. It rolled across the ground unable to halt its turbulent jaunt before tumbling into the fire pit. The small hound screeched in agony while the flames spread over its body, in mad panic it dashed towards its companions as if for help but all it managed to do was seal their fates.. It barrelled into the group setting a couple ablaze while the others scattered fleeing from the screaming pup before it stilled forevermore. In the mad frenzy the two greater hounds rolled in the dirt, as the flames licked their flanks, only spreading the fire across the dry grass bushes surrounding Wilson's tree. The flames raced across the trees and forest floor with alarming speed, he was trapped. Wilson looked on horrified as all paths were closed off by the inferno, coughing as the smoke filled the air. Startled birds escaped to the sky in a flurry of colour, on little more then instinct he pulled himself after them. Down below chaos ensued, the dogs blinded by pain rampaged through the clearing add strength to the wild fire as they tried to outrun their own charring hides, their hallowed shrieks turning the sweet summer air foul. Higher and higher into the lofty canopy with a mad laugh he climbed, hardly able to believe what he was doing tears streamed down his face he could not longer tell if they were from fear or smoke. 'I just need to get to the top before this tree falls.' It wasn't long before he couldn't hear the howls anymore.
Panting and with bloodied hands he reached the mist ceiling the trees reached through, he knew there was no escape for him. Hopelessly trapped by darkness and flame but he could do this one thing, nothing else mattered now not getting home nor Maxwell and his damn game. He could see the stars one last his head through the haze, it was surprisingly light with a almost honeyed scent, revealing a most wondrous sight. The sky was ablaze with twinkling stars, their light dancing amid the swirling of deep blues. It was so perfect like a oil painting draped across the heavens, if his eyes were wet from smoke he wondered if he'd tear up at its sheer beauty. A hushed calm settled over him as he soaked in every moment before his last, musing if revolving around one of those stars was his home.
"I made it for her, she loved to sing under the starlight so I made her a stage without flaw.. just like her." Wilson turned in to face Maxwell, he wasn't surprised he'd come to witness his final moments, delicately sitting upon a thin branch as if he weighed nothing. His eyes still contained that strange look, he looked empty, haunted as if a long worn mask all the devilry and pride had washed away leaving just what in its place. With a sorrowful sigh he turned to Wilson. "It's been too long, far too long."
Wilson could hardly believe that his man before him was the malevolent Maxwell, then without warning the tree trembled and groaned its surrender to the inferno below. He gripped the bough as the tree tittered. Yet he determined to keep fear out of eyes, he was not going fall for this tricky as last ploy by that conniving demon. Yet as the tree shook again all he could do was screw his eyes shut. 'I don't want to die.'
He was falling only it didn't feel like he was going anywhere, he opened his eyes and found nothing. He couldn't see, feel or sense anything was this death a endless void depraved of everything? As if in answer the feeling of many little hooks pulled at his flesh it was excruciating, jerking him upwards. As the pain overwhelmed him he thought he heard a voice.
"This is the last time I'll be helping you."
With a start Wilson woke on the a river bank as a grey dawn broke over the land, looking across the river he could see the dying forest fire. As the smoke fade the full impact of the fire could be seen in the ghostly remains of burnt trees spread out as far as the eye could see, stilling clawing at heavens. There was nothing left not the tools lovingly crafted, the minerals painstakingly sought, his plans.. nothing but a whisper.
He didn't even question how he'd teleported so far, he'd seen too much to question the strangeness of this world, hauling himself to his feet his bones creaked and groaned with the chill of the river spray. As he stood his head became light, steadying himself he wished he still had his walking stick but it was very much doubtful it survived the fire, if he could get past the rushing river barring the way. Thumbing through his pockets he counted the meagre resources he still possessed the flint and iron, a small amount of rations bundled in the silk cloth and his trusty axe that swung from the rope holder on his belt - it was hardly reassuring.
"Nowhere to go but onwards.." His voice thick with the melancholy usually reserved for his armchair after a failed experiment.
As he made to leave a sound broke through the mourning silence of the woods, a whisper clear yet intelligible. The sound seemed to flutter from just behind him, dying as looked over his shoulder - but he was alone and even the air was unearthly still this morning.
".. Its nothing, my mind is just tried."
With a last glimpse across the river Wilson marched on with a heavy heart.
AN : Thanks for reading and I would like to make clear I am basing the story in the early 20th century (when I think DS takes place, fair chance I'm wrong).
Please review and let me know what you think of the current direction the story is taking, any advice or criticism on my writing/story.