Felinius contemplates turning around but realizes that he is already over halfway through the swamp. For his sake and the sake of Misty, it will be safer to just keep going. For to turn the other way would be to expose himself to further dangers. He puts Misty into a reasonable trot.
When questioned, he will lie. He can’t risk going through the swamp and certain death. As a result, he lost her. It wasn’t his fault. The blame rests on the men who had allowed her to escape. Herod will understand. And if he doesn’t, well then let him have words. See what they will come to.
Felinius moves on, content that he had committed himself to a plan. It is simply the best plan under the circumstances.
Chapter 47: The Choice
Dante emerges into his family’s home, his sight intact. Thank God it was just a dream. He hears the sound of an exuberant dog’s bark and knows it is Mitz. He bends down on his knee and greets Mitz, who licks him incessantly and knocks him over, while Dante laughs hysterically.
“Good to see you boy. It’s been too long.” Tears of joy begin to stream down his face as he half-heartedly tries to restrain Mitz. “That’s enough, boy.” He says.
Mitz reluctantly gets off him and sits obediently, while his tail wags frantically. Mitz looks longingly into his eyes and Dante stares for several seconds, mesmerized. Mitz turns around towards the door and barks sharply. Dante approaches him and pats him and then walks out from his house into the most vibrant sun he has ever seen. The sun should be stinging his eyes, but its warm glow is pleasant and he finds himself looking straight at it, something he would normally never do.
Verdant green pastures with blades of grass so straight and symmetrical and plush he feels it can’t be real. The grass is so green and lustrous, it has an almost oily like feel to it when he touches it, hinting at the perfect balance of moisture within its roots. He moves his hands through the blades, smelling the deep aroma of perfectly manicured blades.
Mitz barks sharply again, moving him along into the wheat fields. The wheat is a perfect gold, almost as if the field had been painted from melted gold bars. It. He moves his hands through the wheat and marvels at how the sun shines through the stalks, casting gold shadows through the field in a symmetric and straight line down the middle, creating a perfect path, almost as if the path were made for him.
As he looks up, Mitz wags his tail patiently and barks, urging him onwards. Dante moves forward through the wheat fields on his path and soon emerges out of the fields and sees a rippling brook with water so clear he can almost taste it. Soon, he can have all the water he can drink.
Two familiar figures stand at the brook and wave at him. Tears begin to well up in his eyes at the sight of them. As he gets closer, he confirms it is them.
(2)
He runs up to his mother and puts his arms around her, hugging her fiercely. He cries in joy. “Mama. I missed you. I watched you die. I want to be with you.” With the force of a vise grip, he clings on to her, willing her presence to remain.
“And I’m with you, my boy.” She looks at him, tears filling up her eyes.
“But we are at a place to which you must journey. This is not yet the end, but perhaps a way station. Do you understand?”
Dante shakes his head. He turns to Isabella and hugs her fiercely as well. She hugs him back. “I missed you. I watched you die. I buried you.”
He looks at them both beseechingly. “I don’t want to leave you. My home is with you. Always has been. Always will be.”
“You must journey to us, Dante. We are at a place where you may not be yet.”
Dante shakes his head. “I don’t understand, Mama. My place is with you, so it is.”
His mother and sister push him away. “It is not yet our time to be together. Do you ken?”
Dante shakes his head as tears stream down his face and his body sobs in quiet inhalations. In the next second, they appear to recede, gliding back from him imperceptibly slow.
As he desperately reaches out for them, he clenches onto nothing but an apparition. Like a life-like painting on canvas paper, they appear to billow away in the wind, further and further away until their images appear to completely dissipate. Dante cries and rushes forward into darkness, the image of his home dissipating along with the figures of his mother, dog, and sister. He looks for the bubbling brook, but it has evaporated and replaced with a dry bedrock, with granite so sharp and ponderous, it seems to have been etched from the gods themselves.
“Mama!’’ cries Dante. But there is no one there to console him.
Darkness replaces the glow of the sun like an inexplicable eclipse. It is ubiquitous. His sharp eyes quickly adjust to the darkness. He walks further as the old landscape melts away like an ephemeral landscape. It is replaced by a dense jungle and the re-emergence of the sun.
The jungle is filled with purple and orange-tinged bougainvillea, cypress trees so green they appear to cast their own candescence from the luminous sun and massive redwood trees so tall he can’t see where they end. Large, woody, fibrous vines dangle from the trees and host a vast array of multifarious organisms- great apes, lemurs, foot long insects and winged raccoons. They caw, squeal and coo as if in dire warning or perhaps in a spirit of ebullience. Dante isn’t sure which. Dense green shrubbery seems to breathe a life of its own and is in marked contrast to the vibrant purple maroon of the Redwoods.
Almost as quickly as the sun illuminates his world, it is nearly engulfed by a large, sinister group of clouds that seem to bump up against each other in some secret, celestial war. Thunder booms from the clouds with the force of a thousand grenados and lightning emanates from them, lighting up the dark, sinister sky menacingly. Dante flinches and cowers on the ground, as if in supplication to God -or someone else.
He averts his gaze for a moment but eventually looks up in the sky and hears a loud, humming sound, as if millions of loud, ravenous hummingbirds have consolidated their humming sound together. It is a bit disconcerting but not unpleasant. It is almost familiar.
A large ethereal figure drops out of the sky and seems to materialize on the ground, making a large indentation in the forest floor. His drop is heavy and oddly smoldering, as if he dropped from hell itself. Smoldering fire slowly dissipates around the indentations where he lands and becomes steam. Dante is confused, but he feels more comfortable and he is familiar with the figure.
The figure looks up at him with the most unusual eyes, almost preternaturally blue tinged with an orange and crimson hue. Large, Fibrous and vascular veins pulse rhythmically back and forth on the wings that emanate from his back and the buzzing sound grows quieter with the abrupt stopping of his wings.
The wings seem to enfold in on themselves and into his body. Dante gasps. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it is his father. He runs to him. “Dada!”
His father puts up a hand. The gesture is clear- Do not approach. Dante complies. Dante looks at his father dubiously. “Am I dreaming?”
“Ai. That you are boy. But I am not. I am forbidden from even being here. But here I am.”
“Why did you leave us, Dada?”
“It was not my decision. There is much you do not know about me. Much you cannot. Know that I would never leave you of my own accord. Out of my hands, so it was.”
Dante shakes his head. “I don’t understand, Dada!”
“You will someday son and you may come to hate me. But know this, I have always loved you. And your sister and mother. But it was forbidden for me to be with you. Your sister and Mother are in ascension, removed from me for always. I am here to tell you about your choice.”
Dante shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“But in time, you shall. Trust me. My maker has made me strong, almost too strong- strong enough to defy him. But even he allows me small concessions. You have a choice before you. You may join your mother and sister.”
“Such is all I ask,” says Dante adamantly.
“But there will be repercussions for your abandonment
. You can choose to go back. It will be a hard life, but one rewarding beyond measure. You are the chosen one and much will be lost if you leave. Do you ken, boy?”
Dante nods, fighting back the tears as he does so.
“Make your choice. Stay or go. Know this. When you least expect it, I will be there for you as no one else can. In your darkest hour. Never stop fighting. There is much good still in this world worth fighting for.”
“I don’t want to go back,” says Dante, through choked sobs and racked inhalations.
Cammilia is relentless in her pace. She does not stop to rest all through the night but continues despite exhaustion, dehydration, and hunger. When it is nearly dawn, she approaches Lake Ager. He is close, his smell palpable. She can even detect the fear in his smell. She rushes on until she is nearly to his gravesite.
Pelibus and Tilmore head out for one of their ‘pointless’ perimeter searches. They will enjoy a good pixie smoke when business is concluded. When they come within viewing distance of the gravesite, they notice a filthy canine, who had probably seen better days. They laugh to themselves. Upon closer inspection, their jaws drop in befuddlement. The dog is matted with dried, caked on blood and mud, but it was white once- the same dog Filmore and Talbot were supposed to be watching. What the hell is the beast doing here?
“It’s her, aint it, Pelibus?”
He nods. “Set watch and warrant it so, it’s her.”
“What do we do?”
Pelibus hesitates. The men have obviously failed but what should they do? Perhaps one of them is dead. Prudency would recommend them putting a bullet in the beast’s head and be done with it. But Herod would be mighty chagrined if his little pet were butchered unnecessarily and there would be hell to pay.
“We wait,” cautions Pelibus. “See what mischief she may play.”
Tilmore looks at him dubiously but nods in assent. “Ai. What can she do? Buried under six feet of Earth, so he is.”
Cammilia hurries up to the gravesite and begins to sniff, gradually becoming more erratic and then she begins to dig. Tilmore appears to bolt for her, but Pelibus holds him off. She is digging ferociously and quickly. In only a matter of a couple of minutes, she has dug up a fair amount of Earth.
Pelibus nods. He looks at Tilmore. “Ai, we go. Call the men. We may need help to subdue her. She won’t go down easy.”
“And if she can’t at all?” asks Tilmore.
“Then we put her down. It is not our fault. We did our part, so we did,” says Pelibus sternly.
Tilmore pulls a flare from his saddlebag and fires it off. The sound is loud, obnoxious, smelly and, despite the burgeoning sun in the sky, luminescent. Several riders observe it and make their way to the party.
Cammilia looks up briefly but goes back to her digging. Nothing will keep her from her task.
Pelibus and Tilmore surround her in a large circle to prevent her escape. She looks at them menacingly, baring her teeth in a death snarl. Tilmore gets off his horse and attempts to lasso her, but she moves out of the way and then continues her snarls. He isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what she will do if he ventures too close. She continues to dig.
“Can’t let her dig him up, so we can’t,” says Tilmore, citing the obvious.
“You think?” asks Tilmore facetiously, giving him a condescending smirk.
“Think she will charge us? God only knows how many she has killed so far? How did she get away?”
“I don’t know, but if we can subdue her proper, there may be a reward for us. Herod will be a might pleased. Do you ken?”
“Ai,” responds Tilmore.
Pelibus is well-schooled in the use of the bulla whip. He produces it from his saddlebag and whips out at her violently, snapping it on the end. Cammilia is lightning fast and moves away at the last possible second, barely missing the end of it. She resumes her digging and begins to make a substantial pile. She is digging frantically and has already dug down almost a foot and the hole is fairly wide as well.
“She is going reach him, so she is,” replies Tilmore.
Pelibus looks at Tilmore reproachfully like a stupid child. “We need to set watch she doesn’t fool. If she does, it will be all our heads on the choppin block, so it will.”
Before he can resume his bulla whip, several other riders approach and look at the scene before them.
Jasper approaches first. “What in Christ’s name is happening? Is that her?”
“It is,” replies Pelibus curtly. “Set watch and high tide, she has escaped her bounds over kilometers away and made her way to the boy, beyond hell and high water. I would not believe it unless I seen it with my own eyes.”
“Mayhaps we should put a bullet in her head.’’ Offers Sasso, the youngest of the riders and least experienced with Herod.
“Then you can tell Herod that you wasted his prize. I’m sure it would bode well for us all. We all would appreciate your gesture,” snaps Pelibus.
“Let’s lasso her up, lads, before she does more harm.”
The other riders nod in unison. “Ai.” Sasso and Jasper get off their horses and surround her but careful to keep their distance.
“If I have reason to believe we cannot subdue her, I’ll put her down.” says Pelibus. “And I will take full responsibility for the act. Do you all ken?”
“Ai,” replies the group. Sasso and Jasper swing their ropes and lasso her. She turns to them and bites down on the rope, severing it. She snarls, baring her teeth menacingly. They come closer, daring her to lunge out. While she is preoccupied, Pelibus throws out his lasso perfectly, landing around her midsection.
Tilmore then throws his rope. It’s not a perfect shot, but it does latch around her legs. He pulls it in and her front legs go out before her. She yelps, but quickly gnaws through the thick rope, severing it.
Pelibus tightens the rope and tries to corral her in. It only proves to infuriate her. Sasso and Jasper try to approach with a billy club, hoping to take a swing at her when her attention is diverted, but she is lightning quick. She nearly takes Sasso’s hand off. He feels the hot breath on his skin.
“We have to put her down!” pleads Sasso.
“Not yet,” says Pelibus. “Only when I warrant such. We are many and there is no reason we cannot subdue her.”
Pelibus tightens the hold on her and she whimpers in pain, the rope cutting viciously into her skin.
“Tilmore, get another rope around her neck. We can subdue her if you can find her neck.’’
Tilmore looks at him dubiously. “Ai. I will try.”
Tilmore swings his rope and unleashes it at her in what would have been a great shot, but she does something unexpected. With lightning quick ferocity, she takes off and then jumps in the air straight for Pelibus. He is unprepared for such a capricious move. He doesn’t even have time to get his hands up in a defensive gesture. She bites down on the first thing she can grasp her teeth into, which happens to be his collarbone. He emits a blood-curdling scream as his collarbone breaks. He falls off the ground with Cammilia on top of him.
He tries to push her off him, but to no avail. She goes in for the kill, ripping out his larynx.
In an attempt to get a closer shot on her, Tilmore gets off his horse and pulls out his speed shooter and aims it. He tries to squeeze the trigger, but the gunshot that should have come from his gun comes a split second before and his hand falls to the ground in a spray of crimson. He screams in shock and revulsion as blood gushes from his severed appendage.
His screams are silenced when another gunshot rips through his head, nearly severing it completely from his head. Blood gushes from his neck and he falls to the ground, his face a mess of gore, cartilage and disintegrated bone.
Sasso and Jasper turn around to find their aggressor. “There!” yells Jasper.
His warning does nothing to save him from his own violent end. A large caliber gunshot rips through his chest, producing a cavernous hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Blood gushes from his c
hest in spurts and he falls to the ground.
Jasper turns and fires but to no avail. He barely gets off one wild shot before a gunshot takes off half his face. Shock blunts any pain he would have felt. He touches his face where handsome features used to reside. He screams and fires but he is unable to see with only one eye.
Another shot knocks him in the chest, sending him flying backward. He lands like some macabre puppet, his neck at an impossible angle, his chest a cavernous hole of gore and crimson.
The last man, Berdie, tries to run but is gunned down in the back. It sends him to the ground, where blood continues to gush from his back. With his spinal cord severed, he is paralyzed but feeling the terror throughout his body. He tries to inhale but sucks in only a prodigious amount of blood and darkness envelopes him.
Felinius sees the last man down, twitching spasmodically. His head continues to bobble and twitch like some macabre puppet, trying to revive itself. The scene is almost comical to him, but the deed is deadly serious. What he has done he cannot turn back from. Let the hell water flood his world and drown him if it must.
Felinius knows that expediency is a must but he is very curious about her. He approaches her briefly. She glances up for a few seconds and looks at him with those piercing blue eyes. She is filthy and soiled from mud and crimson from the blood bath she orchestrated, but those eyes are mesmerizing. They stare at each other for several seconds.
She resumes her digging. Felinius nods and then returns to his hard business. He looks around at the monstrous carnage. He looks to the south and can see a plume of dust clouds in the distance. It could be a windstorm or riders. Felinius guesses it is the later.
Even if they had been sleeping or high on pixie and missed the flares, they certainly could not have missed the thunderous gunshots from his long rifle. The sound would carry for many kilometers in this steppe. He looks to the south and his suspicions are confirmed. He can see riders approaching. They will be here any moment.
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