“Good morning,” Bantish sneered. Crush gazed around to see Justin and Bat bound in rope while demons held the Senator and Carol at the edge of the light.
“You again. I had a dream about you,” replied Crush as he spit out blood.
“Oh, how nice. After today, you won’t have any more dreams,” said Bantish, and he ordered an assistant to bring a sword. He then ran his fingers along the blade, checking the sharpness of the steel.
“It was a good dream. We were in a forest, and only I came out.”
“Do you believe in Heaven, Crush?” asked the demon as he held the blade and aimed it at his wrist that was holding the Staff.
“Yes,” Crush replied as Bantish raised the blade. Closing his eyes, Crush waited for the inevitable. A few seconds passed, and he could still feel the hand. A bird chirped in the distance, and a light came through his eyelids. Opening his eyes, Crush saw trees above the head of the sword-wielding demon, and both seemed confused by the sudden change of scenery. Crush’s arms and legs were free, and without any further hesitation, he rolled to his feet just in time to avoid the first stroke of the sword. Standing at the edge of the steep hill, Crush held the Staff up above his head and braced for the next swipe of the blade. The demon leaped into the air, and upon descent, he brandished the blade in a guillotine fashion. The Staff held up to the punishment, but the downward force of the blow sprung Crush’s midsection backward, sending him tumbling down the incline, while Bantish’s body rebounded into an oak tree. When the demon caught his breath and regained his balance, he peered over the edge of the incline in an effort to locate his quarry. The wooded hill was a hundred feet in height, and Crush was nowhere to be found.
“Here, Kitty, Kitty,” mused the demon. “You’ve nowhere to go,” he said as he took the first step down the leaf covered hill. As he crunched his way down the trail that Crush had left behind, he kept his green eyes moving in all directions, expecting a weak and futile trap to come from any direction. When he arrived at the end of the fresh trail, he sniffed the air for the mixed human-feline scent to no avail. What he did pick up on the morning air was a hint of an obnoxious odor. The smell was of rancid garbage, and before he could determine a direction, the odor dissipated as quickly as it arrived, leaving him with no definite clue as to its origin. Bantish knelt down to the mass of fallen leaves, and before he could turn the first leaf, the pile exploded upward in an eruption of activity. Crush leaped from a prone position beneath the leaves on the ground to the first limb of an adjacent oak, and then he managed to quickly scale to the top of the tree where he took refuge from the demonic predator.
“You think you’re safe,” yelled Bantish as he held the sword as an ax and began hewing a notch in the trunk of the tree. “You’re going down, half-breed.” After a few more swipes at the old oak, the rank scent of garbage once again wafted through the breeze, and when Bantish struck the tree one last time, his sword became pinched in the fibers of the wood. No amount of tugging by the demon would relieve the tension holding the metal in the fibers of the tree, and with his hands wrapped tightly on the handle, a hot breath enveloped the back of his neck. Bantish whipped his head around to find himself face to face with the deviously toothy grin of a black bear.
“Who are you?” asked the demon.
“Your future,” replied the great beast. “Grin and bear it.” Then the enormous animal collapsed on the demon without hesitation. From his post on the treetop, Crush saw the black mass of fur envelope Bantish, and shortly afterward, there was only the bear.
“What just happened?” thought Crush to himself, all the time hoping that the ferocious forest dweller took no notice of him seventy feet in the air. To his dismay, the bear wrapped its huge arms around the trunk of the tree and began scaling the old oak as if it were a ladder. For an instant Crush closed his eyes and said a quick prayer to the Creator before opening them once again to see the immense black bear staring up at him from eight feet below. The wind swayed the treetop to and fro, but neither Crush nor the bear took their eyes off each other. Then the bear roared once and spoke.
“Shakespeare Crush. I know you. Come down so we may talk.”
“No, thank you, strange one. This treetop suits me fine. Say what you have to say, but keep your breath down so I don’t choke from the smell.” The bear rumbled a laugh and shook the tree, causing Crush to hold on tighter.
“You’ve seen my diet, friend, so you should understand the odor. I would have you know that I don’t eat cats, humans, or anything in between, so you’ve nothing to fear.”
“Again, I am perfectly comfortable right where I am, so say what you have to say. I’m listening,” answered Crush as he had nowhere to run.
“Very well, strange one. Yesterday, a friend of mine passed through here, and I helped him on his way,” said the bear. “You may know him. His name is Bat Jackson.” Crush’s eyes widened at the mention of the name. “I know that you have met him for I smell his scent on your clothes. Bat is in another dimension, one that you must go back into to retrieve him. Be careful of your mission, for not everyone that you help is worthy of your aid.”
“The bear speaks in riddles,” thought Crush.
“The Staff which you have retrieved, please pass it down,” said the bear. “Trust me on this,” he continued and waited patiently for Crush’s response.
“I cannot give the Staff to you. My world depends upon it.”
“You may keep hold of it, as I do not desire it. Reach it down for my touch.” While holding tight to the limbs with his legs, Crush did as the bear requested. While hanging upside down, Crush stretched the Staff down within reach of the bear, as it also stretched out one claw to gently touch the Staff. “Hold on tight, and follow my command. Rescue Jackson and your friends. Take them to the church; it is the bright light in the distance.” Then the bear looked into Crush’s eyes. “You were never meant to be the bearer of the Staff, but you have done well. Take it back to the one who can wield it,” he finished then touched the Staff with the claw. Before Crush could question the bear further, all light in the sky turned to dark, save the glow emanating once again from the Staff. Crush was in the pit once again, only this time he was alone. Or so he thought. Upon searching the perimeter he came across a familiar face.
“Possum? Is that you,” he asked, but the imp lay still on the ground as if he were asleep. “Maybe even dead,” he thought as he bent down to nudge his shoulder to no avail. Bringing the Staff closer, he poked the little demon with the butt of the Staff, and this time Possum hissed.
“Why are you waking me?” he moaned.
“I’m sorry, little guy. I thought you were dead.”
“No, no. Not dead. They left me here alone in the pit.”
“Who left you here? Where are the others?” probed Crush. It seemed quite odd that Possum would have been left behind after all the effort to get the other prisoners out. Then Crush remembered the warning from the bear that not everyone he would help was worthy. Maybe he should avoid helping Possum escape as well, but that was not in Crush’s nature. And there seemed to be more to this little guy than met the eye.
“They are gone, long gone. They climbed out and left me here,” Possum said gently. “If you had not poked me so hard, I would be gladder to see you,” he added while holding his rib cage.
“Well, buddy, I’m back, and I’m not leaving you here. It’ll feel better when it stops hurting,” assured Crush with a smile. “Come on. Let’s get out, and then you can show me where they are.”
“I hope you can climb,” said Possum as he pointed up to the top of the cliff face.
“I can. Stand back,” ordered Crush as he held the Staff in front of him and concentrated. The light remained dim, and it seemed that Crush did not quite have the ability to use the Staff for anything more than dim lighting and accidental transporting.
“What will happen?” asked Possum, and Crush avoided th
e answer since nothing actually did happen.
“Uh . . . let me ask you something important, Possum. How did the demons get the people out of here?”
“They climbed . . .”
“With what? Ropes? Chains?”
“Ropes.”
“Okay, good. We don’t have any rope,” replied Crush sarcastically, still thinking the problem through, and weighing the few options he had. Then Crush tried something he had not tried before in this dimension. He dug his free hand into the wall and held on tight. Then he dug the end of the Staff into the wall with ease.
“Possum, hold onto my waist,” he instructed the imp. Slowly, one grip after another, Crush dug in and scaled the wall of the pit with Possum hanging onto his midsection. It was a long and awkward climb, and fortunately for Crush, he could not see the bottom when he looked down. Upon reaching the top, Crush rolled over the lip of cliff face and thrust Possum out to the side before resting on his back for several long minutes. When he had caught his breath, he looked over at the little demon and spoke.
“We’re free, at least of the pit,” sighed Crush with a heavy breath.
“Yes, we are. That was impressive,” said the imp as he looked down the hole. Obviously he could see what Crush could not.
“Can you take me to where they hold the prisoners?” Crush asked as he stood to his feet.
“It is this way,” said Possum pointing somewhere out into the darkness. Every direction was the same as far as Crush could tell, and he wondered if Possum actually did know the way.
“We had better hurry then,” replied Crush as he took the first steps into oblivion.
“Fast or slow, it is all the same,” said Possum as he shook his head. “There are many others that live in the castle, and no one leaves the castle without the Master’s leave.”
“Sounds, cheery,” replied Crush. “Who is the Master anyway? Drakthos?”
“For now, yes. It has not always been that way, but you will see soon enough.”
“When we get there, I will need your help, Possum. After all, I saved your life back there, something the other demons would not do,” explained Crush. Possum’s ears perked up, and he seemed to consider the implications of breaking into the castle.
“Yes, I will help you. But I would remind you that you pulled me into the pit in the first place.”
“I guess I did,” agreed Crush with a grin. “But I did not abandon you.” Possum was silent for a moment before he answered.
“I will take you to the castle then, stranger. It will be a relief to visit my old home,” Possum replied. Crush was surprised by this admission, but thought that it was a jest by the imp.
“Thank you, Possum,” said Crush and patted the imp on the head. They walked for several hours before resting for a few moments. Crush was quite weary, and he wished that he had snatched some fruit of nuts while in the forest. “Do you have anything to eat?” he asked. Possum stopped and reached into his pocket and brought out a mouse. It was still alive and shaking with fear as Possum offered it to Crush.
“Thank you, but I don’t feel hungry anymore,” he said and wondered how all the other cats in the world could eat a meal like that and be happy. His own diet was closer to a human’s than to his feline relatives, a fact for which he was very grateful. As they continued to walk, Crush turned his head and placed his fingers in his ears as the imp savored the small rodent. Once the meal was finished, Crush shook his head in disgust as Possum wiped his lips clean, and they were silent for a time as Crush tried to get his mind off the subject of eating. Meanwhile the gradient of the pathway had angled upward, and the walk had developed into a strenuous hike. They topped a hill, and Possum motioned him to the ground. In the distance was a dimly lit castle.
“We are here. This is where they have taken your friends,” said Possum.
“Where is the entrance?” asked Crush.
“There is only one entrance for the living. We must use the front door,” said Possum.
“So much for sneaking inside,” Crush thought to himself as they crossed over the hilltop and headed toward the demons guarding the front door. “You said ‘only one entrance for the living’. So you’re saying there is another way inside?”
“There is. In the moat, there is rumored to be a passage that only the dead will find. Does that sound like a path you want to pursue?” asked Possum.
“No, the front door with armed guards sounds like a better choice.”
###
Next Issue
Stay tuned as Crush and Possum attempt to break into the castle to free their friends from the dark dimension!! Meanwhile Pound, Seth, and Dr. Tatum fight to save Winston-Salem from the foul witches and the evil of Drakthos as the five-part series comes to a close in March 2014!!
About the Author
Christopher Carter is an engineer by day, and transforms into a writer and artist by night. He lives with his wife and cat in central North Carolina.
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