Disclaimers: See Chapter One
WENDIGO
By Susan Zell
Chapter Seven
"A Dish Best Served Cold"
The small figure of a boy slipped into the cave, treading quietly but fearlessly. It moved the boulder as easily as if it was made of paper. His smile of glee faded to one of dark anger as he saw Marguerite sleeping exhaustedly in the corner.
The beast watched the child's entrance warily, its snout lifting as a growl rumbled in its chest.
The boy strode over to the beast and slapped it hard across the muzzle. The great head rocked back and blood quickly flowed over its long teeth as their sharpness sliced into his lips. It howled with rage and rose up on its hind legs. Still the boy wasn't afraid. He raised his hand and Roxton in his bestiary form was slammed back against the wall and held there by an invisible force. In the boy's hand he held a glowing orb that shifted in hue from white to rose to light azure. But every few seconds it darkened with a gray brown hue.
The noise roused Marguerite from a terror filled slumber and she shoved herself up and back against the stone of the cave. Her eyes struggled to see anything in the dimness. It took far too long for them to adjust, but when they did, she recognized the small form in front of her. Her blood ran ice cold.
"Osric!"
The lad turned toward her, his face slipping again into a sweet, sickly smile. "Ah, Marguerite. You're awake. I'm so very surprised to see you alive. My pet here hasn't been doing what he's supposed to." His outstretched hand closed about the small glowing orb. "Bad boy," he reprimanded. The beast howled in agony, its great chest heaving against the pain.
"Stop it!" she shouted.
"But why, Marguerite? Don't you want me to save you from this horrible creature?" His fingers unclenched from around the orb. The creature slumped.
"That's not your pet," she snarled. "It's Roxton and you know it!"
Everything became crystal clear suddenly to her. Osric's presence was the final piece of the puzzle. He had long waited for a day to take his revenge on the two people who had defeated his attempt to return to power. Roxton's sudden blood lust was not the resurgence of his disease but was merely symptoms brought on by the evil man-child Osric. Now she understood why the amulet had looked so familiar; it was the same one Osric had worn about his neck, a symbol of his crime.
The child grinned evilly. "Well, I'm very impressed. You figured it out all by yourself. Yes, this poor stupid creature is indeed our honorable Lord John Roxton. Now degraded to only a poor, stupid beast, a wendigo. But once again he has failed to do what I ask." The last of his words dripped with anger and again his fingers crushed the orb.
Roxton shrieked and writhed against the invisible, painful bonds that imprisoned him. His fury was rising in his brain as a red haze. The object of his hate was near.
Marguerite came to her feet swiftly and strode over to Osric. "Leave him alone!" In her fear for Roxton, she took too bold a step. Somehow, that orb was connected to Roxton.
Osric swung towards her menacingly, his fingers unconsciously relinquishing their torturous hold on the orb. Marguerite drew up short, remembering that this child was dangerous, a devil and someone not to be dealt with as if it was misbehaving.
"Don't you see, Marguerite? He was supposed to kill you. Eat you. The most heinous thing a man like him could ever do. It would shatter his soul and leave him hardly less than a man." Osric smiled manically and took a step toward her. Marguerite backed up. "I've been coveting this little piece of Roxton's soul for months now, waiting for the perfect inspiration to make him pay for what he had done to me."
Marguerite's eyes centered on the orb. Roxton's soul. Was it possible? It looked so filthy, more brownish-gray than the pure white it should be. Her face twisted with horror. "What did you do to it?"
"Me? Do to it? This is the natural color of a man's soul once he's murdered in cold blood. He's killed his own brother; he's eaten the flesh of a human being. He's tainted, Marguerite. This is the soul of the man you love." Osric's laughter rang out clear and loud in the cave, its echo filling her head with its horrid sound. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"I don't believe you," she gasped. "You've done that to it somehow."
Osric sighed heavily. "I've done nothing to it. Well, except fan Roxton's lust for blood a bit, but he's always had that. It was all too easy to make it rise these days, thanks to the Kanu. I was able to make my jailers believe that Roxton had indeed killed again. A little blood in his mouth, a little dream here, a little vision there, and suddenly, Roxton believed it completely. His blood lust had returned. Roxton can be deliciously manipulated. It's what I love about him.
"The Noir believed the evidence I planted, which was plain enough. Roxton was guilty and the punishment…" Osric did a little dance. "Oh how joyous and perfect was the punishment. Roxton, a dumb miserable beast to obey my every whim here in this pathetic plane they banished me to. You, though, were a delightful surprise! He may not have killed anyone yet in the real world, but he was supposed to have killed and eaten you. Now that he is no more than an animal, he should have devoured your flesh. Then I would have made him human again and allow him remember the sweet horror of knowing what he did. Something for him to contemplate for eternity while he shares my misery. His madness would be delectable."
"You're insane," she shouted
"Absolutely!" Osric turned away from her and back to Roxton. "Get up!" he commanded him.
Roxton rose onto tremulous legs. His whole body ached and his vision was nothing but a blur. Another blow from Osric's hand snapped his head to the side.
"Kill her! Now!" Osric commanded.
Roxton snarled and turned his head toward the tall, slim figure to his left, the frightened one that had been with him these past hours in the cave. The smell of her blood rose up again in his nostrils. His empty gut gnawed at him. He was ravenous again, so much so it was agony.
"Roxton, no!" came the weak plea.
Osric leaned in close to the hunter. "Kill her and I'll set you free." His small hand was rolling the orb in his palm, making the hues dance fervently.
Roxton couldn't clasp a single thought in his brain save that he was hurting. And to feed was to make the pain stop. He stalked toward her, his long claws scraping the stone.
Marguerite backpedaled away from him. "John, listen to me. It's Osric! Remember him! He's doing this!" She darted to the side.
Roxton cut her off and Marguerite scrambled the other way. But he was too fast. The creature's eyes were blazing a yellowish red and pinned on her like she was a feast.
"JOHN!"
Roxton reared back, shaking his head. For a brief moment, something flickered. The memories came again: the man and the woman; two nooses; an agonizing wound; a soothing hand; a tender kiss.
Osric snarled and squeezed the orb, disgusted now. He was no longer amused by this game. It was time to end it. Roxton howled in agony with his last breath. His chest had seized.
"No!" Marguerite ran at Osric, past the dying Roxton, and slammed into the little boy, wickedly ramming her fist into his face.
Taken by surprise, the child fell back. The orb flew from his hand and rolled away into a dark corner of the cave. Furious, Osric grabbed her throat and began to squeeze. "I don't care how you die anymore. But die you will!" The child's strength was unbelievable.
Free of the agonizing pain, Roxton roared and scrambled to his feet. The sight of Marguerite gasping and struggling for breath shattered something inside his beastly heart. One thought only enveloped him.
Protect.
Osric saw Roxton coming and shoved Marguerite in the way, a vain attempt to ward him off. But Roxton reached around her with a long dexterous arm and impaled Osric with a single claw. Marguerite felt the pressure ease from her neck and she twisted away, barely rolling aside in time as Roxton leaped upon Osric and began tearing at him with his claws.
Osric's horrific screams filled the chamber and Marguerite covered her ears with her hands to drown it out, but she made no move to help him. The little bastard deserved what he got! But then her eyes caught a glimpse of something barely glowing in the corner. It was the orb, the sliver of Roxton's soul! It was growing dimmer and dimmer.
She scuttled over to it. It was almost completely black now. She understood! Spinning around, she screamed.
"JOHN! NO!"
The final killing blow was raised above Osric's bloody head. It trembled to a halt. Roxton's head turned toward her, confusion rampant on his face.
"John if you do this, your soul if forfeit." She held out the little piece of his soul flickering faintly. It was dying, almost black. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You can't kill him!"
The distraction was all Osric needed. He waved a hand and Roxton got caught in it. His massive body slammed into the stonewall by an unseen force and it slid down into a boneless slump. Marguerite ran to him, cradling his limp form as best she could.
Osric staggered to his feet, rage plain on his face. "Thank you, Miss Krux. Without your timely interruption, he might have actually killed me."
"That's what you wanted. You knew what the cost would be."
"My life. Your life." He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Either way I would have won."
"Well, you've lost now. Roxton won't kill by your whim."
"Yes, I see that. A pity. That damn stubbornness is what I despise about him. Still, so long as he believes he killed you, I suppose it would be enough. His soul wouldn't be destroyed, but his will would be. He'll hate himself regardless and become the self-loathing creature I want."
"You're insane!"
"Yes, that's pretty much what everyone keeps telling me." He stepped toward Marguerite, his hand lifted.
She knew the battle was over. There was no way to beat Osric this time. But the thought of Roxton carrying the senseless guilt of her death on his hands galvanized her into one final action. As he approached, she fumbled for a weapon. A long chunk of bone slipped under her hand and she instinctively grabbed it and swung it at the vile creature approaching her.
Not expecting Marguerite to be so bold, Osric took the blow full in the face. It staggered him.
Enraged and inspired by her seeming success, Marguerite rose and continued to whale upon Osric. All her pent up terror and frustration surged to the surface. Blow after blow rained down on him.
Marguerite could hear herself screaming something at him in a steady stream of verbal filth, but she had little idea of what it was she was actually saying. She only wanted to survive and save Roxton.
If Roxton couldn't kill Osric, then by God, she would. Her soul was tainted far beyond redemption anyway. One more death couldn't possibly make a difference.
Perhaps this was what she was meant to do all along, to take someone else's pain and guilt upon her own soul. She was willing to sacrifice what was left of it for Roxton. It was a simple choice really.
Osric, knowing this mad woman held his death in her eyes, struggled to regain the upper hand. He struck at her with a weakened blow, and it was enough to send Marguerite reeling. But to Osric's surprise, she rose again, blood streaming from her nose and mouth.
This time her hair flared out behind her as if buffeted by a strong wind except there was none. Her face relaxed and her large eyes held the window to her heart that beat with the ferocity of a hellcat protecting her own. There was something suddenly very different about the woman. She radiated power.
For the first time, Osric knew fear.
It was a power that far exceeded his own.
The woman's ranting had transformed into a singsong chanting which filled his head with its subtle tones. It was driving him mad, invading every space and saturating his brain with agony. Then the ground beneath Marguerite glowed white. A high pitch whine filled the air and when it reached an ear shattering level that light sped across the floor with the swiftness of a bolt of lightening, aiming straight toward Osric.
Suddenly white-hot flame enveloped him. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound issued forth. His pain was his own.
His only hope lay with his control over Roxton but that was now lost to him. The hunter lay near death in the corner. Osric was going to die, by this mere slip of a woman, who was much more than she appeared to be. Then as he was dying it hit him.
She was the Chosen One.
After all these years she had finally returned to the plateau.
Did the Noir know? Did Leair suspect and send her here to kill him? For only a Chosen One could kill him. Damn Leair! Osric in his desperate attempt to regain control had awakened the Chosen One in this weak vessel of a woman and now he was dead.
He crumpled to the ground and moved no more, white smoke rising from his blackened flesh.
Marguerite felt the power ebb away from and she staggered back, grasping the stone wall for support. She felt weak and sick. The power that had erupted from her seemed like a dream, as if it had been someone else wielding the power, just like it had once before with the druids and their emerald. Thankfully, the queasiness passed quickly. All that remained were the rewards of her deed.
Osric was dead. Roxton was safe. So was she.
Scrambling back to him, she fumbled for a pulse. One still beat, but it was so weak and hesitant. She had hoped that with Osric's death, the spell would be broken and Roxton would revert to his normal state. But that hadn't happened. He was still a monster and he would die one as well. Tears flowed down her face as she tried to cradle him.
No, it couldn't end like this. She had fought this battle for him, so that he could live without this guilt upon his soul.
So intent was her attention she didn't even notice more figures enter the cave. Challenger ran forward with Malone and Veronica at his heels.
"Marguerite!"
Leair stepped into the cave behind them. His eyes widened in amazement at the sight within.
Osric!
Defeated!
He had forgotten that this prison plane also held the Hated One. Osric had been sent here after he had been defeated by…
His head turned slowly and looked at the huddled figures on the ground now surrounded by Challenger and the others.
Then he understood. This had all been a play for revenge by Osric from the beginning, and Leair had stupidly played his part in the production. He had been but a pawn in Osric's mad scheming, believing all that the Hated One had placed before him. But somehow this man and this woman had defeated him. How was this possible?
Then he felt the residual power. Not Noir but something else. There were few powers that could challenge the Noir. He stared hard at the only two people who could have wielded such power. It was not the male, though he did hold some strength Leair had not noted prior, but it was the woman whose energy signature still hummed within the cave. Though it was dissipating quickly, a sign that the woman named Marguerite had no real clue how to hold it. She was most likely unaware of the unique nature of the gift she possessed or its true purpose.
A Chosen One!
Leair had to keep from falling to his knees in both shock and adoration.
A miracle! She had returned! After all these centuries.
Challenger spun on him, anger and desperation evident in his visage
"Damn it, man! Just don't stand there like an idiot! Help him! He's dying!" The professor gestured at Roxton.
Leair approached them, bowing his head imperceptivity at Marguerite who only glared. It humbled him and he felt shame rear up inside him instead. All this was his fault. Two innocents, two souls in the balance. And only one of them had made it through unscathed.
He placed a hand on the wendigo's chest and felt the feeble life force flickering within. The creature's eyes were opened and centered on Marguerite. Leair doubted the man inside had the strength to withstand the coming transformation. He was holding onto life by a thread.
Leair raised shame filled eyes to Marguerite. She immediately saw his response and grabbed him by his tunic. "Don't tell me there's nothing you can do. So help me, I swear you won't leave this cave alive if he doesn't!"
"But he's too weak. His life force is fading far too fast. There is a great emptiness within his soul."
Marguerite held out the small orb, which she still coveted. "This is what he's missing. Osric stole it from him months ago and used it against Roxton. Put it back." It wasn't a request.
Leair stared in amazement at the small swirling orb, as did Challenger and the others.
"What is that?" Challenger breathed, eyes riveted to the cascading hues.
"John's soul. Or at least a portion of it. He used it to make Roxton think he craved blood again." Marguerite pinned Leair with a steely glare. "Roxton didn't kill that man. Osric did. You condemned an innocent man to this. You bastard."
Leair's head bowed even lower. "I am sorry. I did not know."
Challenger noted the pile of bones littering the cave's floor. "None of these remains are human. Even in this beastly state, Roxton refused to kill another human being. Is that evidence enough for you, Leair?"
Leair sat there stunned. How could he have been so wrong? Osric was a twisted evil being and once again had made the Noir look foolish and inept.
Veronica noticed Roxton's eyes flickering closed. "If you're going to do anything, now is the time. He's dying."
Leair nodded and took the orb from Marguerite. Running his hand over the small sphere several times, he washed it of the darkness Osric had infused it with till it glowed with only light pastels. He then slowed the vibrant swirling hues to almost a standstill. Then he gently settled it on the beast's chest. It sank ever so slowly beneath the skin, glowing a warm yellow.
Roxton took in a large gasp, his great chest heaving, as if something ice cold had touched him, but then after a moment, his body relaxed. His breaths deepened and the tightening grip of death seemed to pass him by.
Leair knew that there would be no better time to try the restoration spell. If the beast regained its full faculties, it could attack them all. It seemed stronger now that his soul was whole. The old man placed his hand on the beast's head and began to murmur the incantation. With his other hand, he removed the amulet around its neck.
The white light appeared again over the beast and became so bright that all looked away. As it faded, a human form took shape.
"Roxton!" Marguerite cried. His head had appeared in her lap and she cradled him. Her hand fumbled immediately for a pulse.
It was there but pounding like a hammer, wild and erratic. He regained consciousness in a rush, with a loud gasp, like a drowning man's first breath, surging forward against Marguerite's arms. She held him.
He collapsed back, body shivering though his skin was drenched. His body immediately curled up into a fetal position. Challenger removed his coat and covered Roxton.
"John, can you hear me?" he called out.
There was no response. The hunter's eyes were tightly closed as if trying to shut out the rush of sensations that were cascading over him, including Challenger's voice.
Marguerite tried. "John, it's us. You're all right."
Nothing.
Leair shook his head. "Give him time." Though by his face, it was obvious he didn't believe what he said. "Let us return to the plateau. Perhaps that will help. Here the sounds are strange and will only remind him of what he has endured. The comforting sounds of the plateau might be what he needs to cling to his sanity."
"Sanity? What are you saying?" Marguerite demanded.
Challenger laid a hand on her shoulder and explained. "The process of retransformation has never been survived. Either they die or they go mad."
"What?" Her heart was caught in a vise. It couldn't be true. She reached out and slapped Leair. It echoed around the walls of the cave.
Leair was shocked by it, but made no move to reprimand her. Instead he settled for being ashamed. Standing, he touched his amulet and waved a hand. A white light ripped the air in front of him. The portal.
Then he gently picked up Roxton in his arms. Marguerite almost protested but then relented since Roxton quieted somewhat in the man's hold. Challenger helped her up and steadied her, realizing for the first time that she too was injured.
It was time to go home.
***
To be continued in Chapter Eight