The Bewitching - Midsummer Aine - Book 2

Chapter 16 - Grand Illusions

The cave was blanketed in the eery blue glow of splattered bug blood, and Waheela body parts laid scattered in various piles. The battle between Dantes and the attackers had lasted several days,and in that time he had died numerous times. So many in fact that he had lost count. With each death he had been reborn, and before the injuries could completely heal he was back into the fray of combat.

The battle was not only a struggle against the animalistic attacks of his foes, but also one within himself to not lose his humanity to the demon inside. It was a constant strain to use his strength to its utmost, but without letting it completely overwhelm his rational thought. Every time he found himself wavering upon that ledge, his thoughts went to Elyssa. The image of her in his mind pulled him back, kept him from becoming one of the very enemies he was now facing.

Of the three enemies, the Wendigo proved to be the most difficult foe. During the battle he had chosen to attack the Wendigo first, seeing that it seemed to be the strongest of his opponents. It's ability to heal, like Dantes himself, proved the attempts pointless. As his attention was focused on an undying foe, it had left him open to be savagely attacked by the others.

Between being torn and scathed from the Waheela's, and the giant bugs impaling him upon their legs, it almost seemed fruitless to attempt to fight back. He quickly realized that his energy was better spent killing off the bugs and Waheelas before focusing his attention back upon the Wendigo. While the plan was sound, and it lessened his foes, the strength of the Wendigo's attacks were even more painful than those of the other creatures combined.

Yet, he fought through until slowly their numbers began to dwindle and only the Wendigo and he remained. Dewdrop had mentioned silver being the only way to slay such a being, something Dantes had no possession of. Without the ability to kill the creature, Dantes instead was forced to trap it. With the Wendigo's strength, this had proven to be an arduous task.

Finally, through a stroke of luck, he had forced it into a corner where a large chunk of the cavern wall wobbled precariously overhead. With what little strength he had left he charged the Wendigo, throwing himself upon the creatures outstretched claws. He screamed in pain as the Wendigo fell back into the wall with enough force to shake the cavern.

When Dantes gasped upon waking moments later, after yet another death, he found the Wendigo buried under the large rock several feet away. The chunk of wall that had fallen was just large enough that even with the Wendigo's extreme strength there was nothing it could do to escape. It was trapped, doomed to live on for eternity under a chunk of rubble. Dantes could finally breathe a sigh of welcomed relief.

It took almost a day, but as soon as he found the strength Dantes began searching for a way out. With no light other than the blue glow from the bugs blood, he quickly lost track of time. As best as he could tell, he had been searching for roughly a week. He had climbed to the top of the cavern and peeked into its many openings. Each one had lead to a dead end. Numerous times he had tried moving large numbers of rocks and stone, only to find they too resulted in a futile effort with no exit in sight.

During this time he thought he'd be driven insane by the Wendigo's incessant groans of pain from under the rocks. He attempted to block it out of his mind with thoughts of Dewdrop, but his mind continued to wander to Elyssa. As if the constant groaning wasn't enough, he was now filled with the guilt of Dewdrop's last words and his inability to tell her his own feelings for her. The fact that she wasn't even at the forefront of his mind made him feel even worse.

By the second week he began to wonder if piling more rocks upon the creature would stop the noise, or at least muffle the sound to a nearly inaudible level. It had begun to drive him insane, and he found himself attempting to sing any song that would come to mind just to drown out the noise. Even with all his lifetimes, he soon found there were very few songs he knew by heart, and hearing his own badly sung renditions of the songs he knew over and over again soon had an effect not much different than the Wendigo's groans.