now.
CHAPTER Eight
The End is Nigh
King Harundor’s grounds stretched out
over several hundred square strides in every direction. The top of
the mountain had been flattened so as to provide a level plain on
which to walk. The grounds were decorated by patches of perfectly
groomed hedges and brightly blooming flowers. One hundred servants
milled about the yard with trays of wine, tailing important court
officials and royal associates. At the centre of the yard stood a
rather extravagant golden totem of an owl--of no specific
breed--boasting sizeable ear tufts. King Harundor observed the
goings-on from his chair at the centre of a semicircular balcony.
To his right sat the queen and his three sons. And, of course,
Seeol too was present.
‘ Your attention,
please.’ A reedy man with a frilled collar stepped out onto the
balcony to capture the attention of those below. ‘His Lordship,
King Harundor will now speak.’ The man bowed himself off the
balcony and the yard fell silent.
The king paused for a moment,
before rising to his feet and swaggering across the balcony. He
gripped the rail, his ruby ring capturing and reflecting the midday
sun. ‘Many of you are aware of why you’ve been assembled,’ he began
with an elevated voice. ‘As the writers of the Holy Tome
prophesised over two and a half thousand years ago, Maker’s Holy
Spirit has come down to our people. The Holy Tome teaches that the
Holy Spirit would come to us with the body of an owl in our
greatest time of need. The prophesy of which I speak has recently
been fulfilled. It comes as no surprise that Maker should grant us
this blessing at a time when the Elglair seek to engage Old World
in war. We are on the cusp of a new age: an age of violence. The
end, my brothers, has become imminent.’
Harundor lifted a hand to his forehead
and squinted at the crowds below. ‘I, Braihon Harundor, protector
and humble servant of the people of Jenjol, hereby swear fealty to
Seeol, the Hand of Maker and the Holy Spirit. I give my kingdom
over into His hands: the hands of Maker Himself. I do so with a
humbled heart that the Lord may do with me as He pleases.
Amen.’
The man took a step back and bowed. In
like manner, the people dropped to their knees and lowered their
faces to the dirt.
Seeol felt overwhelmed to say the
least. He didn’t understand every word that’d been spoken, but as
far as he could tell, he’d recently made a great deal of new
friends. Silence prevailed, both the royal family and the folks
below maintaining their positions. Finally, Seeol realised that
perhaps he was expected to say something: to introduce himself. ‘I
am Seeol,’ he began. ‘I will be your friend, but I must go to Old
World.’
‘ Of course, Holy
Spirit.’ The king rose steadily and with him did his subjects. ‘The
time has come and with Your good will, we cannot fail.’
‘ We must find the
Elglair,’ Seeol continued. ‘They will be my friends, too. Please
don’t hurting them anymore. We can all go to Old World together and
help.’ Seeol smiled inwardly. He just knew that the other silts
would be like Ilgrin and everyone would be able to get along like
the very best of friends.
‘ Of course!’ Harundor
exclaimed. ‘We will do as you say and form an alliance with the
Elglair. Together we will be indestructible. Together, we shall
travel to Old World and there we shall obliterate the demon
threat.’
‘ Yes!’ Seeol shrieked
excitedly. He’d never heard the word 'obliterate' before, but felt
certain it must mean something similar to 'cuddle.' ‘We will
obliterate them!’ Seeol cried, hopping about excitedly on his tall,
golden perch.
The crowd below roared with enthusiasm,
cheering and shouting joyously. Seeol’s heart swelled at the
realisation that he’d made them happy. El-i-miir would’ve been so
proud.
‘ My Lord, Holy
Spirit,’ the king said with quiet determination. ‘I must tend to
your orders
CHAPTER Eight
The End is Nigh
King Harundor’s grounds stretched out
over several hundred square strides in every direction. The top of
the mountain had been flattened so as to provide a level plain on
which to walk. The grounds were decorated by patches of perfectly
groomed hedges and brightly blooming flowers. One hundred servants
milled about the yard with trays of wine, tailing important court
officials and royal associates. At the centre of the yard stood a
rather extravagant golden totem of an owl--of no specific
breed--boasting sizeable ear tufts. King Harundor observed the
goings-on from his chair at the centre of a semicircular balcony.
To his right sat the queen and his three sons. And, of course,
Seeol too was present.
‘ Your attention,
please.’ A reedy man with a frilled collar stepped out onto the
balcony to capture the attention of those below. ‘His Lordship,
King Harundor will now speak.’ The man bowed himself off the
balcony and the yard fell silent.
The king paused for a moment,
before rising to his feet and swaggering across the balcony. He
gripped the rail, his ruby ring capturing and reflecting the midday
sun. ‘Many of you are aware of why you’ve been assembled,’ he began
with an elevated voice. ‘As the writers of the Holy Tome
prophesised over two and a half thousand years ago, Maker’s Holy
Spirit has come down to our people. The Holy Tome teaches that the
Holy Spirit would come to us with the body of an owl in our
greatest time of need. The prophesy of which I speak has recently
been fulfilled. It comes as no surprise that Maker should grant us
this blessing at a time when the Elglair seek to engage Old World
in war. We are on the cusp of a new age: an age of violence. The
end, my brothers, has become imminent.’
Harundor lifted a hand to his forehead
and squinted at the crowds below. ‘I, Braihon Harundor, protector
and humble servant of the people of Jenjol, hereby swear fealty to
Seeol, the Hand of Maker and the Holy Spirit. I give my kingdom
over into His hands: the hands of Maker Himself. I do so with a
humbled heart that the Lord may do with me as He pleases.
Amen.’
The man took a step back and bowed. In
like manner, the people dropped to their knees and lowered their
faces to the dirt.
Seeol felt overwhelmed to say the
least. He didn’t understand every word that’d been spoken, but as
far as he could tell, he’d recently made a great deal of new
friends. Silence prevailed, both the royal family and the folks
below maintaining their positions. Finally, Seeol realised that
perhaps he was expected to say something: to introduce himself. ‘I
am Seeol,’ he began. ‘I will be your friend, but I must go to Old
World.’
‘ Of course, Holy
Spirit.’ The king rose steadily and with him did his subjects. ‘The
time has come and with Your good will, we cannot fail.’
‘ We must find the
Elglair,’ Seeol continued. ‘They will be my friends, too. Please
don’t hurting them anymore. We can all go to Old World together and
help.’ Seeol smiled inwardly. He just knew that the other silts
would be like Ilgrin and everyone would be able to get along like
the very best of friends.
‘ Of course!’ Harundor
exclaimed. ‘We will do as you say and form an alliance with the
Elglair. Together we will be indestructible. Together, we shall
travel to Old World and there we shall obliterate the demon
threat.’
‘ Yes!’ Seeol shrieked
excitedly. He’d never heard the word 'obliterate' before, but felt
certain it must mean something similar to 'cuddle.' ‘We will
obliterate them!’ Seeol cried, hopping about excitedly on his tall,
golden perch.
The crowd below roared with enthusiasm,
cheering and shouting joyously. Seeol’s heart swelled at the
realisation that he’d made them happy. El-i-miir would’ve been so
proud.
‘ My Lord, Holy
Spirit,’ the king said with quiet determination. ‘I must tend to
your orders
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