FIRELINK SHRINE
Undead rarely felt things like exhaustion or pain. Their bodies, constantly wasting away, only to be restored by flame, suffered from a sort of numbness to sensations that did not excite their hearts and souls. Even then, they were filtered. Even when the Knight of Thorns began peeling away at Lex's flesh, the cleric had reacted more out of primal fear than pain. Had he felt even half of the agony the false Darkwraith could inflict, he would have blacked out.
All that was true, and Oscar knew it. Yet as he ran, his legs were lead and his lungs were fire. No matter how he pressed himself, no matter how loudly his body screamed in protest, no matter how loudly his armor scraped and clanked, he wasn't fast enough. Siegmeyer had vanished ages ago, between the twisting turns and the sheer speed he wasn't built for. But still, Oscar couldn't go fast enough.
He burst out of the darkness of the aqueduct and smashed the hollow in the way with his shield, sending it hurtling down into the valley below. As the next one leapt to ambush him, he swung blindly and twisted to finish the attack in the gut of the firebomber. He couldn't risk the hollows following him and disrupting his concentration. He sprinted down the stairs and ran the holy blade through the next one's teeth, jumping with it still hanging and smashing it into the last one before splitting its jaw from its head. Faster, faster, the fire was still lit!
He ran up to it and slapped his sword against the one standing in the fire with a terrible clang. The flame flared and acknowledged him. Even if he fell in battle, the villain would have only a moment's reprieve. An Undead was truly immortal so long as his soul burned with passion, and Oscar was blazing with fury.
"Hm? What's that racket?"
Lautrec was close. Oscar hurdled over the fire and down the ledge to the lower side of the shrine where Anastacia was imprisoned. The knight of Carim had been leaning into Anastacia's cage as if he had been speaking with her, but he rose to face Oscar.
"Well, where have you been? I am glad to see you are safe," he said, apparently honestly. "I'm considering a change of location. I have a rather…pressing matter to attend to up above.
That Keeper has served me well, but… enough with her. I was worried that my previous gift wasn't enough. Here, I'll let you keep her soul… I'm sure the Keeper in Anor Londo can reinforce your Flask."
He drew one of his long, forward-curving swords and turned back to Anastacia."
"How about you leave her alive?" Oscar said grimly, gripping his own sword tightly.
"Oh… I can't do that. The Age of Fire is over. The goddess Fina has tasked me with tying up a few loose ends in that regard. The goddess' love is all-embracing, and these Fire Keepers are so miserable. She can't bear to see them suffer just to maintain the Age of a dead man."
"It's all right. I've promised to teach her how to read and write, and there are others from Astora who might visit her was well."
Lautrec sighed.
"Easing her pain is one thing, but she and the rest of Gwyn's pawns cannot be suffered to live. It's time for the Fire and all its relics to die out, once and for all."
"You're insane!"
"No, I am merely an instrument of the goddess' will. Stand aside. I have no quarrel with you."
"I'm afraid I have one with you."
"Well…what have we here?" Lautrec said, chuckling. "I was grateful to you, but… so be it."
He drew his sword's mate and held them at the ready.
"If you won't take her soul, then the first move will be my gift to you…"
He started laughing again, his body loose, his swords dangling limply in his hands. Oscar lunged forward to strike at his breastplate. The decorative crossed arms on the front would be a hazard, catching any blow that struck them. Lautrec twisted his body to evade, but sure enough, the arms caught the blade. Unfortunately, it was not in the way Oscar had expected.
Though they remained firmly attached, the arms had shifted of their own volition and moved just enough to trap the sword between them and the main body of the breastplate.
"Didn't your prophet friend tell you?" Lautrec laughed. "The goddess can't keep her hands off me!"
He turned to face Oscar again. The knight of Astora backed up carefully, his shield at the ready.
"The prophet didn't tell you much, did he?"
Lautrec lashed out with his shotel, the blade perfectly curved to hook around Oscar's raised shield and stab him in the arm. Shocked, he dropped the useless hunk of metal, and his foe wasted no time in kicking it away. The arms shifted over Lautrec's chest pressing tightly against him. The holy Astoran steel warped, and the edges cracked. The knight of Carim removed the ruined weapon disdainfully and tossed it at Oscar's feet.
"Here. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have a sporting chance."
Oscar stared at him hard and began to reach down for it cautiously.
"Wait," a voice interrupted.
The tired warrior who had sat and gazed vacantly into the bonfire while this was happening had risen. He walked over to Oscar and drew his own sword. It was nothing special, but it was in excellent repair. No doubt he had cleaned and sharpened it relentlessly as he sat at the fire.
"If you're so determined to die, I won't stop you. But I am fond of that fire. I wouldn't mind giving this up for it."
Oscar took the sword and gave it an experimental swing while Lautrec cocked his head to one side.
"Are you ready now? I don't have all day."
He laughed again, but Oscar took the sword in two hands and hacked at his neck. The knight of Carim fell over before the blow reached him, rolling to his feet casually.
"So much work, so little time."
He swung upward at Oscar, who deflected the blow deftly, only to find the second in the shadow of the first. The curved blade swung under his guard and hacked at his tunic, but the damage was superficial. The next attack was instantaneous. Oscar barely had time to catch both blades with his own as they scythed down on him. As he blocked up, however, Lautrec kicked him squarely in the gut, throwing him to the ground.
"Get up. Killing two helpless pawns in one place will leave a bad taste in my mouth."
Oscar rose and charged again, pressing against Lautrec's guard with a flurry of slashes. Though the barrage would have overwhelmed an ordinary swordsman, Lautrec was the champion of a goddess and had two weapons besides.
"Truly, the Flames have faded if this is the skill of the Chosen Undead's companion."
As Oscar drew back to catch his breath, Lautrec reversed his momentum. As one blade came up, the other fell. Panicking and unable to block both, the elite knight blocked neither, the razor sharp blades of Carim biting into his shoulder and his thigh. Before he could escape, Lautrec pressed forward, jamming his knee into his gut again. The force of the blow ripped the blades through Oscar's flesh.
As he came down from the knee, Lautrec stomped forward, crushing the Astoran's ankle. Instead of tumbling over, the elite knight fell to one knee, but that only left him open to further abuse as Lautrec punched him in the face. When he fell, so too did the holy champion's metal boot, the heel digging into the shotel wound in his thigh.
"Pathetic. Not even worth my time."
Oscar laughed through the pain.
"You can win this battle. I'll just come back again and again. I don't need to win. I just need to last long enough for my friends to get here."
Lautrec laughed harder.
"You're wrong. Kill you? Why would I do that? It's no fun to fight the same weaklings again and again. I only needed to disable you."
He turned back to Anastacia.
"Now, where were we, my dear?"
Instead of the familiar bars, he found a quite different barrier standing in his way. The warrior from the upper Shine was blocking his way, holding a beaten steel shield with fading blue paint.
"Well, what do you know?" he whispered. "I guess I still had some Fire left in me."
It didn't last long. Lautrec's swords swung under the shield just like they had Oscar's. The blades entered under the ribcage, but in his frustration, the knight of Carim didn't stop there. He lifted the warrior into the air slowly, the blades sliding up and slicing cleanly through the warrior's innards until the tips emerged from either side of the man's neck. Lautrec sighed and pulled his swords free, the warrior slumping to the ground.
Oscar screamed, forcing himself to his feet. He charged Lautrec yet again, this time with such intensity as to force the champion away from the cell. Lautrec hacked at him with both swords, but Oscar grabbed the blade of his own weapon and shoved it up into the blow, just barely catching the blades on their curve. Before Lautrec could react, he lunged forward, smashing their helmets together. This time, Lautrec took a step back and dodged Oscar's followup swing, counterattacking in a flash.
Oscar had been waiting for that. Slamming the back of his arm into the blade, he winced but successfully parried. The sound of thunder echoed in his mind as Lautrec was repelled and made totally vulnerable. He lunged forward for the last time and smashed the sword against Lautrec's side. The blade shattered, but the holy armor buckled under the force of the blow, and steel fragments shot into the champion's side.
Lautrec stepped back again, now standing at the top of the stairs leading down to New Londo. He glanced down to check his wound but then looked up again quickly. A crowd was gathering at the upper Shrine. A fireball hurtled down at him, and he only narrowly avoided it as a soul arrow whizzed overhead.
"Oscar, my friend!" Siegmeyer bellowed. "I'm terribly sorry about being late, but I thought I should gather some help after our last encounter with a mad knight!"
The onion knight panted as he stumbled past the bonfire to catch up to Laurentius and Griggs.
"Ah…" Lautrec said plainly. "This is more than I had anticipated. Let's say our farewells for now. I'll leave this Keeper in your capable hands. We'll meet again."
Before anyone could react, he stepped off the ledge. Oscar rushed to the precipice. Lautrec hung onto the walls with his curved blades, swinging around the cliffside like a monkey. The elite knight grunted with the effort but sped after him. Unfortunately, he was too late.
Lautrec had taken the elevator down to New Londo. Even if he could follow the murderer down, catching him in that forbidden city of evil would be impossible. For now, he just needed a nap.