I was sure I heard some voices talking in a strange tongue of which I've never heard before but seems oddly familiar.
I was sure I felt someone had carried me. I can feel the rough burly arms that are wrapped around me, and each painstaking step as I gently bounce with the movement.
Now, I feel the warmth of the fire and a sweet nostalgic scent of the woods burning and a delicious aroma. My stomach churned in hunger. But hunger? I can feel hunger? Now I feel more alive. My mind was now exploring every possibility in ecstasy.
But putting an end to my rumination was a gentle nudge. Quick as lightning, a searing feeling of alarm ran along my spine as I slammed my palms on what seemed to be a soft gelatinous surface. It was comfy.
I felt a quick reactive movement beside me and soft footsteps getting farther away.
Should I open my eyes? And I did. Slowly.
What I first saw was the ceiling. It was something I had never seen before. It was beautiful. An exquisite mural portraying a story of a serpent-like dragon swallowing moons drawn on panels circling around an elegant golden chandelier. It had seemed like there were once seven pure silver moons in the sky and the dragon kept on eating each one every panel until a band of men, women, and children started clinging their pots and pans, instruments, and other metal objects while scaring the dragon away from swallowing the last silver moon with their wide open mouths. On one panel, a god heard the commotion, peered down on the earth, and saw what happened, so he planted bamboo plants on the moon to fend off the dragon from swallowing it. On the last panel, the once pure silver moon was now blemished with dark spots, for the bamboo plants planted by the god on its surface have spread throughout.
I gulped a lump of saliva and I felt my cheek muscles tightened a bit as my face formed a weak smile. I know this story. I have read this one in class. The legend of the Bacunawa and the seven moons. I mouthed Bacunawa silently, trying to make sure I could open my mouth. I could.
But then a searing sense rammed into me. I jerked my body upwards, panting heavily. I was sure I was dead! I fucking felt that sword sliced through my neck. It was real for sure. I checked my memories, sorting it chronologically. Oh god, it was real. It really happened. Where am I? Is this heaven? Where are the angels? Where is Jesus? I asked myself as I glanced around. There was no one around.
What is this place? Everything looked surreal. It was a large room with smooth wooden floor, beautiful interior and gold designs on well-carved furniture. The wooden windows and the double door were carved with rolling tendrils on their four corners identically and their center panels were chiseled on each four sides to accentuate the natural blackish stripes of the wood. Exquisite potteries that were painted with figures of gods and goddesses, heroes, and mythical creatures were neatly placed in a fashonable manner all around the room. And I was lying on what seemed to be a bed, but not really a bed as it was like a wooden couch with a beautifully carved crest rail and a left side rail that curved downwards. I inspected the mysterious mattress underneath me. It seems like a red hand woven palm mat with golden fern patterns woved intricately across its surface. The mat envelops a thin rectangular gelatinous material. It's not certainly foam or cotton. What could it be?
God, this is a bedroom for monarchs, I thought. I sat upright on the bed, pulled the yellow textile blanket towards me to cover my naked body, leaned my back on the crest rail, and stretched my legs across the bed. In an attempt to relax the turbulent emotions within me, I deeply breathed in and out, repeating the process until I could feel my heartbeat slowling down a bit.
But sudden incoming footsteps and voices discontinued my attempt, and with a sudden beat that sent my ears ringing and my vision dim my heart started racing again. As the voices and footsteps edged closer, I could clearly hear each word. The voice was weary, angry, and sad. Or am I just overthinking it.
"Tell the Elders to wait until tomorrow for the council, I shall speak to them during that time. Right now, I have an important matter to attend to first-"
"Is it that child? Tell me who it is!" An elderly man's voice. It was raspy and deep, and angry.
"Tomorrow, all shall be revealed-"
The double door flung wide open. Appeared, a tall blistered man with long black wavy hair wearing a red cloth tied around his forehead which pushed back his front hair, a red short sleeveless jacket embroidered with gold and beautiful patterns, a knee-length loose red cloth as his pants, and a daunting sword dangling at his left hip. Underneath his upper garment, stood out black geometric patterns, bold and wavy lines, a detailed sinuous centipede coiling around his right arm, and different sizes of old and new scars.
It's a datu, I thought at once. I never knew a datu could be this majestic and scary. An elderly man peered over the shoulder's datu in tiptoe, obviously curious. His piercing gaze tells me I'm somewhat unwelcomed. I gulped a huge lump of saliva, as I warily observed the approaching datu with the elderly man following closely behind.
The datu sat on the bed, ruffled my hair and asked in a stern but soothing voice, "Are you ok? The food will be here shortly."
I briskly nodded. The datu sharply looked me in the eyes like it was raving in anger and something else, his eyebrows were trembling. I quickly turned my head sideways and focused on the window at the far right of the room avoiding his eyes. I felt
"He does not seem to be of this kingdom, or any other kingdom," the old man pointed out with a rising intonation, surprised. "Hmm...he doesnt have any batuk or any mark that can tell us his affiliation. Maybe he's from Lus or Mandan?" After a quick pause, he continued, " But are you sure he's a boy? What beautiful skin! It's as if not a single ray of the sun had touched him yet." The elderly man bent forward, slid his warm underneath the blanket and touched my ankles but I quickly pulled my legs farther in. He glared at me.
"Can you speak? Are you mute? Try speaking!" the elderly man sharply ordered. "Can he speak?" His head turned toward the datu but the latter did not speak a word. This seemed to trigger something in the old man as he furrowed his eyebrows deeper, quickly stood up, and walked back and forth beside the bed. Then after a while, with a low growl he said while pointing at me, "You have told me you picked this child up on a road on the way here. But I don't believe you!"
Silence.
"I knew it.