Decision Day for the invasion of Cavenarea
Decision day was imminent for the invasion of Cavenrea. The Pettapedes followed closely on the heels of Ebuke’s Watch Guard Army. They listened, they watched, and they tried to interpret every one of their moves. The Watch Guards marched around a small black headland and it was then that the Pettapedes could no longer hear the sounds of marching boots.
They scampered at faster pace through the green haze, to find what was ahead. They began to hear babel and boisterousness, getting louder as they advanced. They rounded the headland and were confronted with the sight of the Guards standing around at ease and talking amongst themselves. They were hanging around on the forefront of a large square blockhouse.
Large wooden doors were opening.
The guards were casually handling their swords, holding them aloft. Also, across and above shoulders, swinging them around above their heads. They were leaning on them and some were going through motions of seize and capture. Some were jostling, falling and feigning injury and demonstrating actions of wounding, accompanied with loud guffaws. They were practising certain manoeuvres for battle.
After some time had passed, the Pettapedes watched as the leader of the men began to issue loud commands, demanding attention and to fall into line.
The noise abated and the Guards obediently carried out instructions. They ran to form a straight line, one behind the other. Eyes fixed forwards towards the doors. Every part of their body, together with swords and shields fell into place exactly matching each other.
There was a silence — something was in the air.
The Pettapedes focussed their eyes on the Blockhouse doors that were now standing fully wide open. The Watch Guards were motionless, eyes fixed forwards. All at once, sounds of marching came from inside the huge blockhouse. One by one, with supreme air, warriors came into view led by their drill master.
“Left right; left right; left right…”
The emergence of the troops seemed never ending. They about turned to face the doors. Every thirteenth warrior was flag bearing, emblazoned with Ebuke’s emblem. They shuffled behind to form rows upon rows. They looked intense and forceful. They were hooded, enshrouded in metal that resoundly clanked with every step. They grasped swords and shields. Projecting up from behind each one were more spears and arrows.
The clanking of the metal armour eventually ceased. The warriors stood at a standstill. Eyes staring at the open doors from whence they had come. There was absence of any sound.
The Pettapedes inched closer. They detected that Ebuke’s soldiers were about to receive their instructions for combat. Silence prevailed through the green eerie mist that hovered over the surrounding dark hills and valleys. There was no sign of the submissive population of Thorsotania. They remained hidden in their cave dwellings. It was foreboding. Even the unwavering Pettapedes allowed slight tremors to travel through their lithe bodies.
Without warning, two figures appeared in the doorway. They lifted one knee and stamped it down to the ground. They lifted long slender trumpets to their mouths, each one hanging a banner with Ebuke’s motif. With flourish, a loud trumpet call containing five different pitches echoed into the hills. This was repeated once more.
Coming from everywhere Thorsotate people came into sight, running and gathering speed. They covered the whole surface of the apron before the Blockhouse and spreading as far back and wide as the eye could see. The trumpeters once more made their call which hushed the crowd. As programmed as they were, they stood in quietness.The trumpeters lifted their instruments once again and blew a long fanfare which rung over the people. They moved aside and the burly framework of the iron Dictator Ebuke almost filled the great doorway. The crowd and troops bowed their heads.
Their Dictator stepped away from the doorway followed by a retinue of servers. He swung his hand behind him gesturing for them to halt.
Ebuke swept up his cloak from behind him and with giant strides strode towards his Warriors. Not one muscle twitched between them as he stomped up and down between the rows of the submissive troops. They stood motionless as the penetrating eyes of the iron duke dug in as he inspected them.
The tyrant walked purposely back towards the doorway and briskly swung round to face his population. He authoratively held his right arm high with finger pointing to the eerie green coloured heavens. In booming voice Dictator Ebuke announced that after two sleeps, and at sundown, the invasion and the taking of the land of Cavenarea will begin.
Without hesitation and not surveying the scene any longer the Pettapedes retraced their path and scurried back to their General. They slithered flat out. Their short legs engineering the twisting and uneven grey terrain. Once more they entered the tunnels and soon were enveloped in the green swirling smothering murk. They stealthily meandered through and at bewildering speed reached General Gallisum once again. They delivered the urgent news.
Eddie and Ollie who’d been deeply drawn into the Pettapedes mission were consumed with outrage. They feared for the Little People and the Cavenarian Army. The boys couldn’t see how these humble hard working beautiful people could be transformed into beings with threatening militant nature to overcome such destructive forces as Ebuke’s power.
The Shamoshelimyticleletite had sacrificed all his mighty substance into the people, plus the knowledge and means of preparing for battle, but would they have the brute force inside of them to conquer.
The boy’s minds were whirling. They felt afraid. They cried out as they felt themselves grasped and squeezed hard. They kicked and struggled to release themselves, but… forthwith…deep purple eyes seeped into theirs. Their angst turned into a melting soothing feeling. For a moment they felt befuddled but slowly came to recognise that they were once again with their dearest friend.
The squeezing sensation was nothing more than the arms of Old Judas embracing their bodies. They in turn flung their arms around Old Judas ‘s neck. He appeared tired and drained.
Old Judas felt saturated from his deeply descriptive tale. The boys in turn so desperately wanted him to continue. For once however, it was they who decided they should give their most favourite friend in the world a rest. After a while they left their esteemed Old Judas. They wandered back home in a state of uncertainty and bewilderment.
Meanwhile the old man straightened out the tattered tartan rug, crawled underneath. With the warmth from dying embers, and the comforting thought of Eddie and Ollie’s visit next day, he fell fast asleep.
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