by Winfred Wong
Glaring at the axe-wielder with his hollow blue eyes, he threw his dagger up and visioned. In his private phantom world, he gathered water particles under the dagger to support the weight of it, conjured up four identical but not-physical daggers by reflecting serene sunlight and, eventually, thrusted them at his enemy, performing his old trick. And immediately after, like he had foreseen it, the axe-wielder raised his weapon gently, focused on the flight path of the only real dagger with his deep-set eyes and swung his axe at it when it got close enough, and, as a result, the dagger was knocked down to the ground, while the remaining daggers went through him like a ghost and vanished.
“You have got to do better than this to kill me, visioner.” The man smirked conceitedly, deliberately provoking him while storming forward in a counter attack.
Startled by the fact that the enemies knew about his trick, Dulais changed his strategy. He reached for another dagger in his cloak, turned around and ran toward the spearman, ignoring the axe-wielder. He focused his eyes on the flat soles of the two-buckle leather shoes of the spearman and grinned like something sinister was about to happen behind his seemingly harmless face. Through visioning, he created two thin layers of water, which were in the shape and size of the soles, in front of his staff, remotely moved and fixed them onto the soles, which were supposed to increase friction, when the spearman was charging in on double indomitably.
As Dulais expected, the spearman slipped down clumsily and hit his head on the ground in agony on the first step taken after the layers were adhered to the underside of his footwear without him knowing. Dulais then performed his old trick once again, targeting the vulnerable spearman struggling to pick himself up on the ground, and it worked.
The spearman was no longer breathing when Dulais passed by. Panting incessantly, he stooped down and reached toward the long spear that the dead man left. Holding the spear and staff at the same time with an underhand grip, he turned around to face the axe-wielder headlong, bent down his knee and feinted a stab to prevent the axe-wielder from advancing. He then pointed the spearhead down, moved around his foe in circle and started to vision something big in his mind.
“Is that all you’ve got?” the axeman goaded, as he moved around Dulais the same way he did and made some deceptive swings without really trying to do some real damage, realizing that there was no way he could take down this man by himself.
After a series of meaningless feinting, none of them gained the upper hand over another, and the others arrived. There were five armed personnel, including the axe-wielder and Ali, surrounding Dulais to cut off his escape route.
Encouraged by the reinforcement, the axeman leapt forward and attacked Dulais with a powerful straight stab. With sweats dropping onto his nose from the forehead, Dulais met the incoming axe with his spear and niftily pushed it down. Huffing and puffing, he then slashed the air in front of him to force his enemy back.
“I respect your unyielding spirit,” Ali sneered confidently, wiping off a drop of water on his cheek. “But it seems you have already run out of tricks to save your life now.”
Dulais gave no response habitually, scratched his wet, metallic ear and shook his head slightly.
“Finish him!” Ali said brusquely, breathing heavily, when a flare suddenly burst out from the gemstone of Dulais’s staff, and the eye-like object reappeared on the staff, staring at its owner.
The abrupt light eruption lit up the sky and blinded the killers temporarily. Intuitively, they all crouched down to avoid taking a deadly hit, shielded their head and rubbed their eyes over and over again fearfully.
More and more water drops rolled down on Dulais’s cheeks as he was visioning single-mindedly to gather moisture in the air together to form a real thick mist that can throttle people. Water particles were so alluring to him in his imagination that he could see them with his eyes and control them as he wished. From those far above in the sky to those deep down in the soil, he felt like there was no limit within his finite mind when the surroundings was beginning to be enveloped by some thick mist, which squeezed out oxygen in the air.
As a consequence, the five armed men all began to choke as they struggled for air and knelt down involuntarily.
“What have you done? You stinky bastard,” the axe-wielder barked hoarsely, trying his best to inhale, felt like being choked to death. “Stop… it…!”
The five men gulped frantically and grimaced with their eyes popped out as it became foggier and foggier. They gasped for the unendurable feeling of despair and had their faces twisted in agony. Some of them rolled on the ground insufferably, waiting for the end of the excruciation, while some of them tried to crawl out of the mist; though, they could barely see and move owing to oxygen starvation.
It didn’t take long before the place went completely quiet again, though, it felt like a year to Dulais. He didn’t stop the mist until he was sure that his foes all went down. Without his external force, the mist dispersed quickly under the breezy breath of summer wind.
He then sat down on the ground with a ghastly pale face, fixed the fainted men before him, and tried to catch his breath after the exhaustion stemmed from the visioning. He felt like his brain was drained of power as he started to lose his consciousness due to the hazy and blurred eyesight, but he still managed to jump to his feet with the spear and staff in his hand and wobbly hobbled to finish off the five unconscious assassins lying like statues on the ground before he faltered and fell down.
The sun had already disappeared when the fishy blood waft of the dead bodies was replaced by a pungent odour of melting wood that was bitter to Dulais’s nostrils. A small cloud of dirt blasted up by a few gusts of wind plummeted into his face. Roused by a biting nip in the air, he wiped the dirt away and became aware of a roaring fireball that literally turned night into day at the direction of the village. He wasn’t sure what happened, but, knowing that he was ambushed, he felt certain that it was all about him and the staff.
The smoke of the flame kept spewing into the dark sky, creating a veil of greyness that completely shielded the waning moon. He glowered at the devastating fire with his drab eyes as an ardent feelings of unbearable guilt and sin overwhelmed him. Remorsefully listening to the terrifying snarling and squealing of dying men and maimed women that reverberated angrily around, he began to march toward the village with a resolute gait.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
In Lome, with colorful canvases that adorned the walls of the hall and a chandelier that was embellished with invaluable jewellery, the building looked unimaginably more luxurious than it appeared from the outside. It also had fitted red carpets throughout, folding chairs and small round tables on all four corners, a cupboard with shelves and doors next to a stove, and some empty flower vessels.
“Nice to meet you too,” Rogen said, squirming as he felt uncomfortable with this place as he had never been to such a grand place before.
“Care for a drink?” Hera said.
“No, that’s fine.”
“Well then, let me take you to your room so that you can get changed and settled quickly,” Hera said, in a graceful tone, as she moved to an oak, straight staircase set in the centre of the hall and dumped the piece of bread into a trash can nearby. “I know you’ll be leaving early tomorrow.”
“So, clearly you know who I am and you are well aware of why I am here.” Rogen followed her to ascend the stairs.
“Well, yeah, my father has come before you arrived, and he told me that you are coming.”
They reached the second floor, “Your father? Do I know him?”
The second floor, which consisted of four large bedrooms, was not as gorgeous as the first floor. There were no priceless paintings, cozy carpets or decorative hanging light, only white wallpapers, a straight corridor, which led to all the bedrooms, and a plank floor.
They walked along the corridor until they reached the room that was labeled as number four at the very end of it. “Sure you know him. My fa
ther is Haddon.”
“What!? He never told me about a daughter!”
“Well, technically, he doesn’t have one. I was adopted,” she said, proudly, as she opened the sliding door of the single-window room and went in. “This is where you can stay for tonight.”
“He adopted you?” He followed her into the room.
“Yeah, some years ago, when I finished...my school, I was sent to the palace to serve, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to go home. So, I ran away, but there was nowhere I can go. I almost starved to death before Haddon found me in a narrow and filthy lane.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. But what happened to your biological parents? Did they leave you?”
The room was sizeable, furnished with a wood closet, a bed, two armed chairs, a side table, and a window and carpeted. Everything was free of dirt and in a good condition, as if someone cleaned it just a second before.
“They died when I was young,” she replied calmly without hesitation, as she sat down in a chair.
“Oh, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he apologized.
“Don’t be. I only have very vague memories of them. I was raised solely by my grandpa in a village very far away in the north, born and bred there, so far away that I can barely remember.”
“Then how did you end up being here?” He sat down on the other chair right opposite to Hera’s, untied his bag on his waist and put it on the table in a very gentle way, much gentler than when he was giving away the lead rope.
Huffed out a sigh as some of her bad memories were triggered involuntarily, “About nine years ago, when I was small, my grandpa brought me here. He claimed the education here was better, and I could learn a lot of things that I could never know in the village. So, he left me in a school that only took in students who travelled miles away from home from every part of the country and went home without me. And yeah, you know what, in all these years, I did learn something I wouldn’t have thought of, like why using a piece of bread to clean the walls is better than a towel, how to keep things clean and tidy at home, wow, best things I’ve ever learnt.”
“Why didn’t you just go back home when you realized the school wasn’t really that good?”
Regarded at him sadly, with a cool face that didn’t quite fit her energetic brown eyes, she stopped speaking when she heard some firecrackers being set off out on the street.
“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t,” she said in a depressed tone, as she stood up slowly, ambled to the window with a miserable gait and focused on the people on the sunless street outside, with spiritless eyes. “Oh yeah, today is the lantern festival! How could I forget?”
“Like the lanterns on the rods?”
“Come here, you can see it from here,” she said, with her usual graceful tone back.
He went to her, and through the window, he saw the streets and lanes that were smothered with people, who were holding lit-up, handmade lanterns of various shapes and shades in their hands and were all straggling slowly in the same direction. With brightly shining lanterns hanging from the rods of the houses situated in the bustling and twisting lanes and people’s hands, the moving flock looked as enchanting as a soaring silver dragon that only existed in fairy tales.
“It’s beautiful,” he praised. “Where are these people going?”
“At every year’s lantern festival, a firework show will take place at the palace at night. So, people like to gather outside the main gate of the palace with friends or family to celebrate the festival together. And after the fireworks, the best decorated lantern of the night will be chosen from the crowd in a competition.”
“When will the firework start?” he asked when a thunderous boom of explosion of firework and some small firecrackers sounded.
Bright light that split the night sky into two halves marked the beginning of the display of the night. Vivid colors of fireworks illuminated the dark sky, sending burning sparks into the cool air, rising until they reached the top of the world. Each one revealed themselves gloriously with a unique pattern, lighting up Hera’s smiley face, attracting eyeballs from around the whole city. And Rogen stared at her, realizing how alluring her smile actually was, until the ignition of a massive firework drew his attention away.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she said happily. “I think there are more to come.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go out and have fun.”
“Um…about that…” She flushed crimson, hesitating, head down, and rushed for the door when a firework was discharged over the palace, and the crowd out there was applauding and whistling. “You know what, you can go, but I can’t come with you.”
“Why not? Where are you going?” Rogen queried, watching her as she stormed out.
He didn’t know what she meant when she said she can’t, but, by the pensive look on her face when she walked away, he was certain that it was something embarrassing to mention, and he hesitated to go after her, but, after a while, even though he knew it may be impertinent, he still left the room and descended the stairs to look for her as he knew he cared about her even he didn’t really know much about her.
He saw her sitting in a chair. “Hey,” he said, approaching her, when fireworks were being launched skyward outside. “It’s ok if you don’t want to go. We can just stay in here and watch the fireworks upstairs in the room.”
She stayed tranquil, gaping at the ground, fighting her tears as it started prickling her eyes, an awkwardly soundless atmosphere began swallowing them up.
“You still don’t understand, do you?” She stood up suddenly with heart-wrenching tears dropping onto the ground, took a big step toward Rogen and pointed to the tattooed numbers on her neck.
“Understand what?”
“Understand that I’m not a free man, and I can’t just walk out of this place with you happily and go anywhere I wish to go with this tattoo on me, assuming no one will see me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not a free man? What does that mean?”
“I’m a prisoner, and I’m never getting out of this place. This house is a prison to me. Do you really think my grandpa took me here because he mistakenly believed that the education here is better? Do you really think that it is my choice to get a weird numbered tattoo on my neck? Do you really think that Haddon didn’t notice my tattoo when he saved me?”
“I don’t get it. Then why did your grandpa leave you here?”
With a pair of aggrieved and teary eyes, she took another big step toward Rogen, forcing him to step back. “Nine years ago, after the revolt of Orilon, Ustron got a taste of how officials can conspire to incite riots, telling people to rise up against him. So, gradually, he developed a fear of losing power after what had happened. Corrupted by that fear, he ordered a group of soldiers to capture the loved ones of the village heads or high ranking officials in a town or city and took them prisoners in the capital, which is Lome.” She paused for a moment and stepped backward as the fury in her converted into sadness. “My grandpa was a village head, and he knew they were capturing people. So, instead of waiting for them to come, he took me here and turned me in to express loyalty to the king.”
“He must be sad. But, look, on the bright side, you got yourself out of an apparently inextricable situation, and Haddon adopted you, even he knew that you are a prisoner. He gave you a new life,” Rogen said, trying to ease her pain.
“He is a very nice man. He found me. He bought this place, hid me here and warned me not to go out.”
“I’m truly sorry about what you’ve been through. You’re like a restless bird in a cage. Whoever drew this must’ve known you very well.” He pointed to a painting on the wall, showing a one-winged bird in a cage.
She broke into a smile even though tears were still prickling her eyes. “You know what, I drew it.”
“Really?”
“That’s what I do to kill time. Do you want me to paint a portrai
t of you?” she said when the most deafening explosion of firework that marked the end of the firework display of the night sounded in the dull sky.
“Sure, why not?” he beamed with a melting smile.
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
Dusk, the falling sun was about to dip below the horizon, radiating the last beam of orange sunlight down on every living spirits.
Noticed the eye-catching red flag dancing on the rooftop of the guard station, the villagers, including Althalos and Keira, seethed along the main street quietly and mustered at the open ground before the station disorderly, waiting for Galot to speak, with their eyes enlarged and butterflies flying around in their stomach. It was clearly not the first time they saw that red flag, which became the culprit of the widespread anxiety, judging by how speedy they gathered.
As they were waiting, half dozen of guards came out of the station and formed a line that separated the crowd and Galot, who came out last.
“This is not a drill.” Galot, wearing a full set of silver plate armor plus a mail hauberk that accentuated his plump paunch, announced on a bench in front of a pillar. “According to the information given by an eyewitness of a murder, we have, sadly, found Malo’s dead body, who had multiple gashes that claimed his life on his neck, near the river. We believe that some savage bandits are responsible for this barbarian act, and they are now lurking at somewhere outside. But unfortunately, up to now, we still have no clue how many bandits there are. Considering the current situation, I am declaring a state of emergency going into effect now. Weapons will be allocated to every one of you who are strong enough to wield a weapon to protect your family. Please kindly obey the commands given by our guards. As for those who lack the strength, please remain at home until further notice and light up the lanterns.”
