Chapter fifty four
Several moments later only the chirping of night insects could be heard; they could be asleep. Except for the one supposed to watch guard of course.
With his lips stretched behind a gag and hands tied behind him, not to forget the cabin was locked from the outside, this was going to be far harder than normal.
He bumped against the wooden walls frustratingly, vainly…angrily. And all that t resulted to was stripping him of his energy. Shortly after, he calmed and his spirit led.
A narrow slit on the roof of the cabin helped welcome the tiny rays of moonlight…rays of hope. It brought with it a new strange feeling of strength. And shutting his eyes, he began to mumble words he hadn't said since his mother died.
"Our Father, who art in heaven…"
Surviving this was one thing he wanted to do. Not because he feared death, but because seeking vengeance for his brothers seemed like a priority now.
The henchman on guard had his attention on the images he'd been making with a twig. But the muffled sounds from within the cabin reached his ears, and caution set in.
Ever so slowly, he came to his feet and took one looked around him. Darkness ensued, thick and solid that it almost got to him.
The sound continued, one he was certain was being made by their prisoner. Who was he talking to? Was he planning an escape? He retrieved a curved blade and stalked towards the grazing horses that moved the coach. And the sound intensified as he neared.
He had to do something quick! One last glance at his allies proved they were fast asleep, so asleep that waking them now was like freezing hell. Meaning this was all up to him.
Carefully, quietly, he drew out the latch sealing the doors and pulled them open.
What he received upon his head was a strong pair of fists knocking him unconscious.
Martin Tonnel had beaten his gag down again. And he'd almost screamed down at the henchmen's body in victory until he remembered he could wake the rest.
Instead, with hands still tied together, he maneuvered his way off the cabin and placed his feet upon the ground.
Time for a sleek escape.
But before that, he had to complete his prayer! Scowling down at the unconscious body, the Prince gave it a first kick. "And deliver us…" two more kicks, "…from evil!"
Now time for a _real_ escape.
He scurried through the darkness, unsure of his steps as long as it took him farther away from these men.
Several times, he almost tripped over something hidden in the dark. But he'd paused, taken a few pounds of air into his lungs and surged on. Until he stepped on something that stabbed into his foot…
Without second thoughts, he screamed into the void, only realizing the grievance of what he'd done after he heard a question from the distance. "Did you hear that?"
More movement. More yawns.
"Sire! The Prince is gone!"
Damnation! Martin cursed and continued on, limping on his good foot even as the excruciating pain tore at his muscles. He was bleeding…and the blood trails he was leaving behind was going to cause more harm than he could afford.
But that didn't stop his determination. Gasping and sweating nervously, he whispered another prayer even when he began to hear the men seep closer to him from behind.
"Find that brat even if it's the last thing you do…"
And that Isaac man was going to die a very miserable death. That…Martin swore.
***
"I need your help finding my brother," Abraham declared, eyes straining through the dark tunnel to find his way. When he tired from that, which was several moments later, a flicker of flame crossed his eyes. Somehow, that seemed to alight the torches hanging on both sides of the tunnel with fire. That was better. "And what was your reason for loving the darkness again?"
Nicholas bared his teeth in a smile and faced the King who walked side by side with him. "I've agreed to grant only one request. Would you prefer I answered that or you're serious about finding Prince Martin?"
The tunnel made a sharp turn to the right. Abraham kept himself busy manoeuvering fire from torch to torch as they moved forward, lighting their path by just the flicker of flame in his eyes. But when he heard the response to his question, he groaned deeply while rounding the bend. "Demons of knowledge are supposed to have some sense of humor. Trust me, you're no different from Martha."
Nicholas frowned like the words offended him. Which truly, they did. "My sister has gone strictly against our kind by helping Ozii destroy the earth. Well that's some lack of humor."
"She's helping him. You're doing nothing at all," the King smiled, realizing the walk had come to an end. He gave his companion one last smirk as he looked at him. "That makes you worse if you ask me."
The demon of knowledge winced but said nothing.
A dramatically large underground space followed right after the tunnel had ended, characterized by eerie carvings on every bit of rock surface. An altar looking table stood right in the center, and Abraham couldn't help but feel impressed.
"Welcome to my lair," came the words from Nicholas. A round of silence passed that both used to reach the stone altar, just before he added. "Although I'm not still sure exactly why I'm helping you."
"You have no choice, trust me…"
"Oh you threaten to kill me if I don't," the demon grinned again, just as he retrieved a round glass from beneath.
Abraham set himself to sit on one of those high, carved rocks. When it almost seemed like he'd ignore, he faked a smile. "I hate getting my hands dirty. My guardian is outside. She might look weak and gorgeous, but trust me, you'll not enjoy her wrath."
"Saying please also works," that sounded like a sarcastic reply. The King was staring at him like the word seemed new to him. "Right."
Nicholas rubbed a palm over the fortune ball, causing an amber flare of light to fill it. The same color replaced his eyes which now focused upon the glass ball as though reading from it.
All the while, Abraham watched, trying to wonder how exactly they could contact with any realm of knowledge by just staring into a blaring sphere.
"They moved North towards England," the demon started, not breaking tye contact with his eyes even once. "Trails of a six wheeled cart are evident in Liverpool and Sunderland. It is camped north of it at the moment…but I'm afraid I can't exactly tell you where."
The King came to his feet almost suddenly. And when he blurted out, he sounded desperate. "First of all, is my brother alive?"
"Very much so," he said and paused for the King's reaction…which was a snicker of disbelief and joy. Just before he decided to spoil it again. "But he won't be if he's not found in the next two days. I already see trails of his blood staining towards south for some reason."