The shadow flickered on the beads of the sundial marking the time five minutes to eleven.
A slow controlled breath expelled from my mouth. Pruthvi and Leena resumed their walk towards the entrance of the Panchayat's lounge. Tyrell and Celina followed, walking swiftly to stay behind them. They emanated confidence, and it made me feel right to my bones. Hardik, flying above our head, maintained the pace. The carpet had been one of our stronger pillars, carrying the dead body without bailing out on us at the crucial moments.
There was a distinct noise, something that sounded like chattering in mad excitement. The members of the Panchayat weren't the lone ones waiting for our arrival. The lounge was filled with Harakara, ready with their pencil and parchment. There was a large audience, larger than the last time, waiting for the show to begin. Some of them tethered nervously looking back upon our entry.
Pruthvi and Leena walked in first, hand in hand, giving each other a supportive disposition. Ashwant Veer sat up straight, noticing them and immediately made the High King aware pointing a finger at us.
King Aghasthya's austere eyes gave me a quick shiver. His eyes met mine and we held stares. He suddenly looked older than the last I had seen him, his heavily wrinkled face and protruding white hair giving away the impression. He stood upon an impulse watching Tyrell and Celina, most of his interest directed towards Tyrell only. Leena at once lifted her hand and shook her head in an attempt to stop him from creating any unnecessary nuisance.
The chatter...
The muttering...
There you go, someone whispered the name Rahu Kerenza...
A few frantic knights, acting by their brute instincts, rushed over to us, their muskets pointed at Tyrell. He responded well by staying absolutely calm, ignored them and continued walking.
"Hold it!" The High King yelled, his gravelly voice echoed hushing the surrounding noise, his face hidden behind steepled hands, eyes staring like an age-old owl.
The knight eventually backed off, nervously lowering their muskets. We stood in line and respectfully gave the Paramarashtrian traditional greeting.
"At ease," the High King said.
I quickly ran my eyes over the audience sitting in the lounge, staring through the mirrored wall behind the High King's throne. Is she here? Is she here? Heck, she was capable to travel through dimensions and teleport from one place to another without using the Gates, so why not appear here as well...for me.
On Pruthvi's say, Hardik glided steadily down to the ground. Two knights walked upfront and removed the casket off the carpet. Hardik flew back up, rolled itself into a scroll and dropped down beside Pruthvi's leg.
"Open it," the High King ordered.
One of the knights responded, quickly opening the lid of the casket. He gagged when the unpleasant smell pervaded and at once drew oohs and aahs from the members of the Panchayat. It took a moment for them to have a good look at the body- a thin piece of meat, that laid stiffened inside the casket. The remainders of which didn't quite reflect the traits and characteristics of the titleholder of the Paramarashtrian dark magic user. The disapproving statements began to flood in.
"Fake!"
"Sham!"
"Insult to the pioneer of the dark magic."
"These kids must be on dope."
And finally...
"Based on what evidence would you prove that the body belongs to Almourah?
YOU ARE READING
(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira
Fantasy"I am really sorry," I whispered, "I always knew that it was terrible, but I could never have guessed, not even in my dreams, that people of this country can cross all the limits." "Not all the people," she said, softly yet sternly, "Just a few. Oth...
