(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira

15.1 Up for it

Time crept on swiftly as the shadow on the sundial.

The building of the Panchayat, a massive medieval castle built with reddish-brown bricks rose from between the snow-filled trees. Each corner consisted of towers and turrets, with the one in the middle beneath a giant dome displayed the large sundial, with its beads currently indicating fifteen minutes to two. With every passing second, I drove forward with the commitment and responsibility, but there was always a bundle of nerves.

I trudged along the walkway where the sides were covered with snow shovelled across it. The entrance to the lounge was right there and my heartbeat pulsated through my body as went nearer. In a hazy blur it seemed like a gaping hole from where the knights holding muskets in their hands, were bustling around. In a split second, I envisioned one of them alerting his companion and jointly running this way to seize me. It was all in my mind though. I shook my head and found the knight simply bowing his head a little while I walked past him.

The trial was about to begin in a few minutes. I walked speedily pulling the sleeves of the jacket to get on with the challenge up ahead. The only hurdle that could stop me from attaining what I wanted was the possibility of the word spreading around about the disaster that had occurred in the correctional facility. I wished with all my conscious for the trial to end before the supplements safeguarding the facility faded away and showed the reality. I had locked the unfortunate knights inside as well. For the moment, I was absolutely safe and instead of dwelling on what could happen, I mused over what was to be done once I stepped inside the lounge.

Beside the entrance, someone familiar was standing alone and unmoved watching the colossal painting. It was Nazira with her eyes enlarged and scanning the painting thoroughly. Swallowing a bile and in great need of replenishing spirit and morale, I took a diversion and went to talk to her.

The painting she was staring with such attentiveness belonged to the First High King of Paramarashtra, her eyes lingering on his hand holding the long royal glossy stick, the scepter that has been passing down since ages and now being in the hands of the current High King, Imtiyaz Jaffar.

"Nazira," I said, gently placing my hand on her arm and making sure that none of the knights were paying attention at us.

She responded to my gesture, turning around carrying the same quizzical expression on her face. "Hayden? Good, you're here. There is something I need to tell you..."

"Bhupathi is dead," I whispered, and quickly grasped her hand before she gasped in horror and showed any other signs that could draw attention. Her skin was burning with fever, warmer than the sensation I'd get from my magical fire. "Don't panic! Stay relaxed."

She seemed hardly to breathe."Did you...?"

"No!" I said, gazing into her panic-stricken eyes lined with light kohl that compelled me to tell the truth. "I...don't know. But I'm definitely guilty."

She grimaced. "What does that even mean?"

A high pitched alarm blared and I held back startled. It was to warn the commencement of the trial. "I'll talk to you later," I said and walked away from her.

"No, wait! Hayden! You really need to know this!"

Her voice in my mind sounded too stern but I was left with absolutely no time to hear her out. I'd atleast mentioned it to her and that did assuage the feeling of guilt and stress.

For the second time of the day royalty gathered in grandeur at the front portion of the lounge. Ashwant had called it as the stage and was divided into two tires. The High King, a short aged man with most of his face covered with a silvery beard and his head with a white velvet turban, was seated in the wooden throne carved with intricate designs. A knight serviced the King of the kings by placing a glass of water on the heightened table. The presenter placed a stacked copy of papers in front of him. At the second level, the rest of the kings were seated in a row. Ashwant walked around the stage and graced himself on the wooden chair placed next to the High King. He caught my eye as I entered and smiled fondly.