Chapter sixty two
"My wolves gave a quicker feedback than you did," Lucian finally spared him a few words without exactly glancing away from his crafting.
Although offended, Ozii paused in his tracks. "You do not suddenly find the news exciting anymore, now do you, Lucian?"
"Oh, I did. We all did…" he responded with a scowl on his face. "Just until moments ago." After his words, he pinned the djinn with a knowing gaze as though daring him to take a wild guess on what must have happened.
Judging from the look on his face, Ozii was losing patience. One more look at all of them made their moods much more obvious now, something his excitement had stopped him from noticing. Certainly, there was something he was not aware of. "What is it?"
When the demon understood there would be no luck in this guess work, he sighed. And slowly, Lucian came to his feet. "It's your favourite turned demon."
"Vizal?"
"Yes, Vizal!" He barked.
All eyes landed on him that very moment. While most were cautious looks warning him to watch his tone, Ozii's was narrow and daunting. "What did he do this time?"
"Seems the old man got emotional over Abraham's dramatic outburst," Lucian's voice had an atom of pain to it. Anger, disgust. With every choking word he said, his anxiety only grew. And soon, he was on the verge of sweating. "As we speak, Ozii, Vizal is on his way to Decresh. He denounced us…denounced you and apparently wants to save the humans at all costs. Guess that's what happens when you lend a human with gifts much bigger than he."
Shocked to his toes, Ozii stayed quiet for long, dragging moments. Very slowly, all his nerves came alive one by one, setting him on fire from within. Anger
***
Soaked in a hot, boiling bath, Abraham stared out at the crescent moon, no readable expression on his prominent face. His dark hair splayed over his shoulders in wet strands, all he did was form ripples in the water with his fingers. He harboured no emotion, held no smug nor a smile. Just a plain nonchalant face wanting to escape from the drama life had to offer and just…think.
Well away from him that even his enhanced senses couldn't pick, Razia, the witch and the Priest stood together, discussing in whispers at the courtroom.
Somewhere at the back of it, Samlong just listened and waged a battle within himself as he was lost in thoughts. His last discussion with the dead Prince haunted him still. His words, so sad, yet so accurate.
"I have a feeling that I next." And of course, he'd been.
Meanwhile, the discussion continued amongst the three in hushed tones. Something about Abraham's present mood.
"Losing three brothers in a matter of a few weeks has done well to blacken his heart," came Paul Hermann with his usual Irish flare. Nobody was elated, and that was certainly obvious now.
Jeremy Tonnel wasn't even in the right state of mind for such a meeting. The Prince had retired long before dusk, announcing he was off to "make peace with wine." From the looks of things, even he did not care anymore about living or dying.
Ozii had better come take him so he could go meet his brothers at the better place. The sooner that happened, the better for him.
"Jeremy's the only one who could change his mind now, but even he doesn't care," Calpurnia shook her head in dismay while lost in her own train of thoughts.
She'd never felt any humbler in her life, earnest enough she was seeking advice from the one human she once detested. "What do you suggest we do, Paul?"
The Priest squirmed and kept silent. Turned out he was just as confused as they were. "You'll have to give me some time to come up with that," was all he could manage after several moments. Hopefully, the One who sent him would grant an answer to this misery.
All the while though, Razia remained thinking and silent. What should she do? The better question…what would Martin have wanted?
The answer came quick and fast. That known, she'd made up her mind to speak with the King. One of these days, just when she managed to summon up just enough courage for that.
***
As he strode on, his mind pondered upon events passed.
That very night remained in his head like glue on paper, unwilling to leave.
He'd retired to his bed beside his wife, tucked away beneath his woolen blanket because of the numbing cold. However, at some point in the middle of the night, the heat that teased his skin became much too ironic and uncomfortable.
Perhaps it was all made up in his head, but he heard screams, heard the consuming sounds of scorching flames, the gory sound of blade against flesh and the splattering of blood.
The sounds played on in his head for what seemed like an eternity before they became much more real. Vizal tore his eyes open anxiously to behold the fiery light swarming in from outside. Just then, the front door came crashing down, welcoming a handful of Philippine soldiers who had spears and swords. The screams from outside only heightened just as the heat grew hotter.
Out of reflex, the old man put his arm about his wife who was presently shivering beneath him.
Even before he could glance off to the small cart upon which his children slept, one guard yanked off his daughter, his voice a bark of a thing. "Get yourselves up from there, now! All of you…on your feet!"
Vizal wasn't sure what to do; his mind worked in many directions. Coming upon his knees, he pulled his wife, Cecilia, to his side, feeling helpless as tears reached his eyes. "Let go of them!" Just then, a club was sent across his chin, causing extreme pain that zapped through his nerves and drew blood. Cecilia yelled from beside him as she was pulled away by a second man who manhandled her towards the front door.
Very slowly, Vizal managed to secure his balance while standing on his two shaky limbs; and with both his arms above his head, he followed them wherever they led. The rest of his family were being tossed forward by the Philippines right in front of him, just as a couple more pushed him outwards violently from behind. As scared to hell as he was, he also understood that the wisest thing to do was stay strong but obedient.
However, the sight that beheld him as they all stepped outside broke every ounce of courage he must have cooked together.
Fire consumed every single home except theirs, which was presently also being set on fire. People scurried randomly around the dirt road beneath the moonlight; children wailed; screams blared. Bodies…dropped. A lump rose up in his throat too difficult to swallow considering the pain in his chest. Now and then, he flinched at the sight of previous friends who were nothing but bloody corpses now. While so, he wondered where they were headed. Still shivering though, his eyes remained protectively upon his wife and kids. Whoever foresaw a midnight ambush from the neighbouring enemies?