Chapter fifty six
They'd been parading through North now for as long as none could remember. Unfortunately, clues they'd expected to find all seemed to have run away for some reason.
The King was strangely successful in keeping himself calm and quiet in contrast to the urge he had to surrender if that was what Ozii really wanted. Truly, he'd begun to tire from all the unplanned drama that came with saving humanity.
While in his own tiny world of regret, Razia rode to his side and glanced at him, genuine worry shown in her heart shaped face. "We'll find him, Your Majesty," she whispered with that level of assurance no one else would have given.
And so…Abraham returned a smile of gratitude. Just before Calpurnia seemed to have sighted something.
"Doesn't that chain belong to Martin?"
Instantly, the King descended his chestnut horse and crouched to the portion of the dry grass below where the Royal talisman laid. It was a heavy piece of gold and emerald necklace he could swear belonged to none other than his brother.
Feeling the necklace to make sure it was real, he looked further ahead. "Martin seemed to have left a clue."
"I suggest we go with your friend and find ourselves the bounty hunter. We're just on a goose chase if not so," Paul Herman squinted with clear irritation. "Where did he say we could find a this djinn again?"
Abraham came to his full height and faced his clan. The frown on his face showed he was thinking. Now, he faced Ramon. "Do…pray tell, shape shifter. Nicholas stated Vizal's lair is the most prominent in the North wing. Could you lead us to it?"
The Korean understood the hidden meaning in his words. When the exchange of glances with Abraham was over, he looked up into the blinding sky. No one could have expected him shifting suddenly upon his horse. All they'd seen was his characteristic flare of light…and then he was replaced by the most breathtaking falcon they'd ever seen.
An array of grey and indigo lined its feathery wings which began flexing in readiness for flight. Sooner than not, Ramon took to the sky, soaring higher like a born master to the art.
Everyone except Paul did not seem to be, in the least, moved. He? The Priest looked like someone had just stripped naked before him.
However, he readily joined the other pairs of eyes studying the bird as it hovered farther around an encroachment of hills marking what seemed like a boundary between the two territories.
"Isn't it just beautiful," the rhetorical question was muttered by Zora, gawking like a newbie to the game of mystic.
"I agree," said Abraham. "Don't tell him I said that."
The shape shifter kept revolving about a wide circle for just the amount of time to almost bore you to death. And just when they were being buried 6 feet under with boredom, the falcon gave a loud informative squeak.
A wide grin formed on the King's mouth. "He's found it!" The fire djinn spread both arms apart and faced his allies. "Hopefully, friends, this marks an end to our journey."
Reaching for Razia's hand, he began the ritual of a familiar bond they'd shared before. They all clasped hands, forming a tight circle with an irregular diameter. A gasp was all it took for Abraham to teleport the entire team from the hilly borders of Valish to an entirely new green tropical land, just underneath the hovering falcon.
Ashilar was never going to be used to the whirling sensation it brought to her butterflies though.
"So, what now?" The first Tonnel son was growing weary and impatient, glancing expectantly at the bird above that never stopped squeaking and hovering. "Where's the darn djinn or whatever you all call yourselves?"
Abraham smiled at the comment, vainly studying the dense body of trees around them for what exactly Nicholas termed "the most prominent building there is."
When he felt a teaspoon of weariness set in, he slipped out a stick of cheroot and fixed it between his lips.
Ramon was diving low to them now. After having soared towards the King, he shifted comfortably back to normal and landed in a half crouch beside him.
"You're smoking cheroot in such a moment. How delightful," the look on his face was nothing but dire sarcasm.
Even with the sworn hatred he'd preached towards the other man, there was an obvious peculiarity in the way both interacted that couldn't go unnoticed.
"Our target would pass for a sucker when it comes to wine and pipes," Abraham smiled, just before his eyes caught a glimpse of a tower piercing out from behind the highest vegetation.
Their gathering alone was enough to attract a pair of eyes or two from the few people around the premises who were carrying on with their daily lives. It was obvious that such people belonged to the lowest irk of wherever it was they came from. If their tattered clothes weren't enough confirmation, their menial occupations proved it just right.
A hunched old man among these stalked in weak, wobbling steps towards their own gathering. Given the way he walked, it almost showed he had not the slightest idea people were in his path. Better scrutiny proved he was blind.
Abraham took one last pull off his cheroot when he'd been bumped into by the ragged fellow.
"Oh I'm so sorry, my dear," the latter muttered between shaky tired breaths. "I didn't see ya there, bad eyes."
The King pulled him gently by the shoulder after an assuring pat and led him safely past. However, when Abraham Tonnel raised his fingers again to his lips for another pull off his pipe, there was no pipe. Confused, he glanced down at his empty fingers to wonder where his cheroot had walked off to.
But on second thoughts, he turned back to study the old blind man wobbling past. Soon after, he looked at his team once more.
Calpurnia was the first to sense his uneasiness. When she followed the direction of his eyes, she heard him say. "Who else forgot that this bounty hunter was supposed to be old, blind and a sucker for pipes?"
At his words, they all faced the wobbling old man behind them, mouths half agape. No way…
***
There could only be two possible words for Martin's dilemma at the moment. Hopeless and afraid.
Hopeless because his leg was growing sore from the pressure in his wounds. And afraid because a part of him knew that he would die.
Not too far a distance away, the faint voices of Isaac's henchmen lingered and faded, all on talks about finding him and slaying him at the spot.
"Oh God, please don't let me die," he was about breaking apart in a world of fear and tears, pausing between worse with his eyes to the sky.
Gasping, sweating, he groaned at the unsightly view of the deep, bleeding groove under his foot. Why was this even happening? Where was Abraham when he needed him?