Lycenea

by Rory D Nelson

  He takes careful aim and fires, but the gun jams. He panics, tries to cock the hammer. Sensing his inability to fire the weapon, she runs straight forward and closes the distance in seconds. She is now traveling over fifty miles an hour-top speed or very near it.

  Cammilia head butts him at a lethal pace. He flies backward over ten yards, smacking into a cypress tree. He unwittingly releases his rifle and it goes flying off. Ironically, the spring on the gun releases and the rifle fires, but to no avail. All the wind is knocked out of him and agonizing pain reverberates throughout his body. He takes a breath and can feel the fragments of bone lodged inside his back. He knows it is broken.

  Cammilia leaps up on him, intent on finishing the job. He tries to fight back, but a baby toad would have more luck trying to fight off a full grown hindserpent. Cammilia seizes him by the side and rips flesh from him. Blood pours out in crimson spurts as vital arteries are severed. The last image he has in life is Cammilia ripping out his throat.

  Felinius and several men make it to the top of the plateau and the sight they find leaves them all dumbfounded. Even from such a distance, they can clearly see there is a total bloodbath. Men are lying dead, appendages either ripped off them or mangled beyond recognition. A loud gunshot issues forth and they can all see the single man left who is trying to take her out.

  His gun seems to jam and then the wolf closes the distance. They are all equally perplexed and shocked to the point of paralysis. One of the men, Filmore, pulls them out of their stupor. “Felinius, you are the crack shot? Can you get a clear shot from this distance?”

  Felinius comes back to the moment. He needs to finish this. He nods and unslings his rifle, trying to get a clear shot. He takes careful aim and believes he has a shot. It is too late for the man. He is already dead, so it doesn’t matter if his shot pierces him. He can take out the beast. He holds his breath and rests his finger against the trigger, trying to squeeze it. But he hesitates.

  “Can you find a clear shot?” asks Filmore emphatically.

  “No. It’s too far.” He lies.

  The men stare uncomprehendingly at what transpires next. She races to the edge of the sheer cliff and seems to consider something. “Let's get her!” cries Filmore.

  The men race to the Cypress tree. One man fires a couple of wild shots, but they don’t come close. “What in Christ’s name is she going to do?”

  Felinius laughs for a moment, mesmerized by her resilience and intelligence. He wouldn’t believe such a story if he had heard it. He doesn’t believe it now. “She’s going over the edge!” He yells at the men.

  They look at him dubiously. But yet they watch in amazement with a look of consternation as she takes a running start and jumps onto a narrow ledge about forty foot down the neary vertical cliff. She nearly tumbles over the edge but just barely manages to bury her claws into the hardpan enough to pull herself onto the ledge. From there, she nimbly jumps from one small rocky ledge to another.

  They rush to the edge and look at her unbelievingly, sure she met her death over the cliff edge, and yet somehow, she is managing to traverse down the cliff. Filmore takes aim and tries to fire with his rifle, but Felinius butts the gun at the last second. Filmore looks at him accusingly. “What gives, you fuck?” He asks contemptuously.

  Felinius looks at him reproachfully. “You imbecile. The ricochet could kill one of us. Think! Besides,” He says. “I know where she’s going. Doubtful she can make it in time, but she will make a play for him?”

  “Who?” asks Filmore.

  “For the boy.”

  Filmore looks at Felinius dubiously. Despite what he just witnessed, he still can’t believe it. “That’s crazy! She’s just a dog!” says Filmore.

  “Oh, is she now?” asks Felinius facetiously.

  “We need to set path,” cries Filmore.

  Felinius walks to his horse. “You will stay here and wait. I will find her. I know where she is going. It’s doubtful she will be able to get to him in time. Set watch and warrant, I will make quick work of her when I find her.”

  “If you don’t, all of our heads will be on the chopping block, so it will,” decries Filmore.

  Felinius turns around and looks at him sternly as if imparting an important lesson on a stupid pupil. “Do you know who the hell I am?”

  Filmore nods. “Ai. More than able-bodied are you to complete the task. Godspeed.”

  Felinius gallops off and contemplates. Perhaps there is more to their bond than he had ever realized. He has a duty and no choice. Is even he really so indispensable?

  (2)

  The journey to the gravesite is a long and arduous one or perhaps it just seems that way from Dante’s perspective. They give little consideration to his comfort; instead, they only ensure that he makes the journey intact. The bumpy road causes his head to slam against the side of the horse continually, but it’s not enough to knock him into unconsciousness. Dante wishes that it were.

  He will go to his death fully conscious and intact. Nothing will temper the pain of suffocation, dehydration, and claustrophobia. Dante permits himself tears and they roll down his cheeks in droves.

  When the horses begin to slow, he becomes obstinate about not showing pain to his abductors and killers. He will not allow them that. He forces himself to stop crying. Once the horse stops, he is picked up roughshod and taken to a point above a hole in the ground. Dante is incredibly sensitive to temperature changes and he can feel the cooler air from beneath the ground. He can even smell the pine box that has been laid open for him.

  Dante is stood up above the hole in the ground. Cassius sighs deeply, uncomfortable with the act but realizing he has no choice in the matter. In most cases, he doesn’t see the cruelty beforehand and depravity of the men involved. But, there is no way to temper it now. By necessity, he must be up close and personal.

  He ponders whether or not to extend him this one courtesy before he parts from this world. The boy seems about to speak. Though Dante is terrified, he does not fight back and does not cry. “I have no tears for you. Do what you came to do and be done with it,” says Dante with mustered stoicism.

  Cassius looks at the boy with sympathy and a burgeoning respect and admiration. He had expected the boy to cry out vociferously and relentlessly. The boy is only twelve but had managed to get a piece of some of his best men. It is a shame that he is forced to eliminate him. He would have made a considerable ally, if he could have been turned. But it is not for Cassius to decide such things. “I’m sorry. I have no choice in this. The falcon calls and we must heed his call.”

  Though he is sworn not to, he extends him one final courtesy. He brings up his rifle, not to swiftly, but just enough to put him into unconsciousness; or so he hopes.

  Dante falls back into the pine box. Through his training, his head has actually been tempered. The butt is far from unconscious-inducing. A small laceration opens on his temple. It is painful but is lost in the mind-numbing terror he is feeling. He permits the tears to fall down his cheeks.

  They fall in torrents harder and harder with every nail being driven into the coffin. Dante sobs quietly and shakes as his body is racked with the convulsions of all-consuming grief and mind-numbing terror. He knows that with his excessive crying, he will use up the little oxygen in the coffin, but he is unable to help himself.

  (3)

  Cammilia nearly slips down the treacherous plateau several times, but just manages to grasp onto a paw hold with her Velcro paws and retractable claws. At one point, one of her claws breaks as she is forced to make a twenty-foot leap from one rocky outcropping to another.

  It is the only way. An extreme sense of urgency drives her on-as does her maternal instincts. A sixth sense tells her that Dante is unable to find her himself; so she must complete the journey for both of them.

  Aware that she is being relentlessly tracked, she moves on with reckless speed. And so, what would have taken an experienced climber several hours or most of the day to complete, sh
e completes in less than an hour. Blood seeps in minuscule amounts from a tiny laceration in one of her paws and yet she races on, without thought to dehydration or personal injury.

  Felinius knows it would be suicide to travel down the same path as her. He has no choice. He must backtrack and go back down the plateau the way he had come. The journey will take him twice as long as she, but he can’t risk it. Misty is already near her breaking point.

  Though there is a well-spring not too far from Lake Ager, Felinius also knows that she may very well drop dead from exhaustion and dehydration if she is to continue her relentless pace.

  Herod will be upset if his valuable toy is lost or dead, but he will be infuriated if she somehow absconds with the boy. Felinius is tempted to put Misty into a full gallop but restrains himself. He will need her intact for the remainder of this despicable mission.

  (4)

  Dante hears the dirt as it begins to pile up on his coffin. He is tempted to scream and sob hysterically, but they would fall on deaf ears. His tormentors might even enjoy his anguish and he would not give them the satisfaction; so he cries and heaves in relative silence.

  Soon, the coffin begins to creak under the weight of the mountains of dirt piled on top of it. Perhaps Dante could break out of his restraints and punch through the coffin. After considering such a course of action, he realizes it is futile. He knows physics. Even were he to be able to get out of his restraints and punch a hole through the coffin, the dirt would pile on top of him, drowning him in dirt and suffocating himself in minutes rather than hours. Without a platform, he would be unable to go up through the dirt. It would all be for not.

  Why would his God allow him to come so far, all to have to endure such an agonizing and cruel death? For what purpose? Was there any way he could get a message to Merlin? Was it possible one of the Brethren could save him yet? Dante knows there is no way he can save himself.

  Dante’s heart sinks even further. If they had taken such pains to eliminate him, then eliminating Cammilia is merely an afterthought. Perhaps she is in her own grave. Or maybe she is lying dead in the desert, her remains left for the vultures and tri-Toads. Was it possible that she slipped through the hands of his pursuers? Perhaps.

  (5)

  Though a deep sense of maternal instinct has fueled her, it cannot sustain her for the remainder of the journey. Cammilia is forced to slow her reckless pace. She heads for the direct route to Dante, despite the extreme danger. Her nose alerts her to the fact that it also holds the only source of water, the swamps of Ager. She heads for it.

  Being an expert tracker, Felinius picks up Cammilia’s tracks right away. There is no doubt. She is heading for the boy; her maternal instincts razor sharp. She’s heading for Ager Swamp, a deadly place of venomous water serpents, otters and all sorts of deadly reptiles, lying in wait for unwitting prey.

  Felinius knows that he cannot follow her through the swamps. It will be too dangerous. If she makes it to the swamps, he will be forced to travel around the treacherous terrain, adding numerous kilometers to his journey and giving her nearly a day’s head start. He must head her off and bring her down before she reaches this place. Felinius pushes Misty into a harder gallop, despite her vehement protests.

  (6)

  Dante cries himself out until dehydration gets the better of him. He simply has no more tears to produce. He begins to feel the effects of dehydration and lack of oxygen. He starts to breathe in shallow, raspy breaths and knows if he is to survive longer, he must somehow conserve oxygen.

  It is pitch dark in the coffin. Like Merlin, Dante is extremely sensitive to changes in light. And yet, when he shuts his eyes, visions flicker on and off across his eyes. He can see his mother Sophia, his sister Isabella and his father, Lucius, who abandoned him. They seem to smile at him and give him a conspiratorial nod. He smiles back, aware that it is merely a hallucination but unable to stop himself. Perhaps their spirit is there.

  Like a candle that is blown out, the images shut off and he is transported back to his nightmare. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, but he refrains, knowing that hyperventilating and panicking will only kill him quicker. Though he knows he will eventually die, a part of him tenaciously holds onto life at all costs.

  The images of the dead continue to flicker on and off as he shuts his eyes. He knows it is illusory, but he is tired. He so desires to see his family. He shuts his eyes and acknowledges the images.

  As he does so, the images begin to take on the form. They seem to wave at him. It is okay. Come inside. They seem to say. Dante relents. He is simply too weak to do anything else.

  (7)

  Cammilia finally makes it to the swamp and her first taste of water, though it is far from fresh. Her unique physiology is hyper-resistant against bacteria. Though it may taste awful, the mildew water will sustain her, as long as the sodium content is low enough. Luckily, it is. She laps it up greedily, stopping herself shortly before she regurgitates it.

  She smells a plethora of dangerous insects, vermin and reptiles abounding in the swamps. Nonetheless, she heads straight into it without the least bit of hesitation, for it is the fastest way to her boy.

  Though he has pushed Misty hard for the last several kilometers, he is too late. He can clearly see the tell-tale signs of the wolf entering the swamp. He contemplates for a few minutes. He knows that if he doesn’t catch her, she will have enough of a head start to reach her boy and possibly save him.

  He hesitates briefly. Misty seems to share his misgivings and backs away from the treacherous swamp. Felinius nods his head, knowing it may very well be the only way. He knows he has never been one for playing it safe. He directs Misty forward. She hesitates and vocalizes a protest. But Felinius remains obstinate. Reluctantly, she gallops into the swamp. Felinius keeps a sharp eye out, finding the safest path in the swamp. Rather than going straight through, he chooses a zigzag path.

  Felinius knows the terrain well. In addition to the numerous venomous reptiles and amphibians that make their home here, there are also sinkholes, mud traps and serpent traps, awaiting the unwitting and inexperienced. He will have to be on full alert if he is to get out of here alive. Misty neighs vehemently every few yards, as if questioning his choice of direction. He pats her neck, hoping to assuage her.

  The constant reverberations on the water induce the reptiles from their daily slumber.

  Felinius keeps Misty at a steady pace, knowing that his acute eyes will be his best bet against such perilous conditions. Though deadly, the reptiles like snakes and crocodiles are the least of his worries. If they land in a mud trap, there will be no one to save them. He rests his hand reassuringly against the butt of his long rifle, knowing it will be his best defense against a croc. Their skins are nearly impenetrable and such small caliber hand cannons may only seek to enrage them rather than kill them.

  He also touches his hand against his speed shooters as well, knowing they will be needed to kill any serpents. The half-second needed to reach for his long rifle may be all the time they need to strike at Misty. Without her, he is as good as dead in here.

  Felinius catches a peripheral glimpse of a pair of beady eyes, ostensibly tracking him. He rests his hand against the butt of the rifle. He goes in the other direction but notices another pair of eyes as well. There is no way to avoid them both, so he pushes Misty into a hard gallop. She reluctantly complies. With quick ferocity, the massive croc swims up and rears up, attempting to attack Misty.

  Felinius brings up his rifle and fires in one seamless move. The massive slug rips through the crocs massive head, unhinging its jaw in a mess of gore and crimson. Pieces of croc gore stain his face and he wipes it away. Misty neighs in terror but continues on her path. Her many years with Felinius has prepared her for such violence. She is used to the sound of the long rifle as well as the speed shooter and it does little to unhinge her further. But she has never seen such creatures.

  Cammilia’s sense of urgency has heightened her already acute
senses to nearly supernatural levels. She is now aware she is being tracked. This induces her into a faster pace. It proves to be ill-timed. Running at nearly 30 knots through the swamp, Cammilia fails to see a deadly mud trap. She lands in it and begins to sink. She yelps out in surprise and terror. She tries to break free, but the harder she struggles, the harder the mud seems to bring her down into its murky darkness.

  The mud overtakes her. On the way down, she catches a break in the form of a vine. With all her strength, she latches onto the vine with her mouth and begins to pull herself up through the murky depths. Her head emerges and she coughs up a fair amount of mud from her lungs.

  Felinius hears a distant yelp. Cammilia. He is tempted to put Misty into a harder gallop but refrains, knowing they may succumb to the same fate.

  Cammilia pulls herself up with her considerable strength. She pants hard, showing the signs of extreme fatigue. She emerges out of the mud and onto drier land. She waits for a moment and catches her breath, knowing that sustaining such a reckless pace will cause her to drop from exhaustion. It will do little for Dante’s cause.

  After a couple of seconds, she takes off but is stopped short when a large, gelatinous tentacle grabs her leg. She cries out in surprise and pain. It embeds itself into her leg and she yelps out frantically. Despite how much she struggles, she can do nothing from being pulled into the swamp. She claws back with her strength but to no avail. She will go into the swamp.

  A gunshot rings out and the pressure from her leg is immediately relieved. Blood pours from the tentacle and it falls back down into the mud, to whomever it belonged.

  Felinius braces himself for another shot but refrains. Cammilia is clearly in his sights. All he has to do is squeeze the trigger. He is far off but her eyesight is keen. He fires, sending a shot near her legs. She runs off. There can be no denying what occurred. If he had done nothing, Cammilia would be dead, taken by the swamp creature. He saved her, but why? Because perhaps there was still some battles to be waged and others that was beyond despicable. Was there any chance Cammilia could save him without his intervention?