DoFP Part 5, Yaron's Diary

+JMJ+

Gray Time Day 30

The trunk returned me to the tower on Graystark early this morning. I felt as if I had already lost the game. I had no clear story, just plenty of jumbled thoughts. Salt was waiting on the rooftop.

“Hurry Master Yaron.” she cried, “You have three minutes to make yourself more presentable.”

“I shall appear as I am!” I said angrily, “Eldark need not think I am trying to impress him!”

“But you must!” Salt wailed, “You must impress the master or he will not be impressed!”

“Then he just will have to be content with not being impressed.” I responded dryly. Salt did not reply. Apparently she thought me quite mad. Alia was standing outside the great hall door.

“So you really are going to take his challenge.” she said coldly. Something inside of me tightened.

“Alia?” I whispered. If Alia did not want me, I could not finish the contest. She crossed her arms.

“You are a very silly man. Father has killed others who have tried to come here.” she scowled, “You will fail!”

“She speaks truth!” Salt cried, as she she raced down the stairs after me, “Master Eldark will never consider someone who is not more then a prince!”

“Fear not ladies, I know how to deal with bullies.” I said grimly, I pushed them aside and marched into the great hall. Then I froze.

The hall was filled with men and women in dark fur lined garments, carefully powered faces and scowls. Everyone had scornful eyes on me. A lowly storyteller who dared to look at Lady Alia. Who were these cross eyed vultures? Eldark was seated on a stone chair, his elbows on the armrests and his long slender fingers tapping together impatiently. Getting over my surprise. I marched up to the throne and bowed elegantly. A glint entered his eyes.

“Prepare to fail Master Storyteller!” he sneered. I could feel my face beginning to burn. The crowd whispered and murmured. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw the veiled Alia mingling with the them. She was watching me. I turned back to Eldark and held myself erect.

“A wise man once told me that those who insult others are small minded people who do so in the attempt to raise themselves by putting others down.” I said then glared at him out of narrowed eyes. A gasp, followed by titters ran throughout the room. Now it was Eldark's turn to go red in the face. I smiled thinly.

“If we are all agreed upon our manners now I shall begin.” I said calmly. The man in the black robe, with a big book nodded.

“Pray do.” he said and opened the book. I took a deep breath, it was time to terrify my audience and leave them in suspense.

“Once upon a time.” I began, “Or shall I say, it was a dark and stormy night? Audience choice.” snickers ran through the room. One veiled woman with gold and silver painted nails, waved a fan at me.

“Oo take the Dark and Stormy night.” she cooed, “It sounds eerie and romantic. I love a good shock.” I was repulsed by her but I kept my manners.

“It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder crashed and lightening struck. Trees were split in two and fields were washed away in the torrential rain. Amidst the the rain and thunder a man arrived in Horth. The commoners heard nothing but the clap of thunder and saw nothing but the upper-side of under their beds. You see the commoners feared the storm above all else. No one went out in a storm, for they believed that the gods of war were unleashing their anger and wrath on the miserable people. The stranger was bent almost double under the weight of an enormous drenched sack. But he seemed not to head the rain much.

Presently, far above the noise of the thunder, also known as the hammer of Zeus, came a piercing cry. Legend whispered of nameless fear know as the banshee. The herald of death. The villagers were to busy covering their ears and pretending not to have heard the banshee call to notice the stranger releasing a shadowy creature from his sack. If they had seen him, perhaps their fear would have given way to anger and they would have rallied together. But they did not see him.

Now in the village dwelt a young boy called Boots. He was the thirteenth child and never had a bit of luck. He was sitting in the table since all the other hiding places had been taken by his numerous brothers and sisters. So Boots saw everything through the window except the man. But he did see the creature. Unfortunately he mistook it for a bit of fog. You see Boots had decided that there was really no point in being afraid since he could not do anything about it. Besides what good did the underside of a bed ever do to a frightened person. Not much in the boy's opinion.

Presently, Boots heard a terrible harsh screeching voice calling his name. A shadow fell over the house and the sound of the rain stilled.

“Little Boots! Little Boots!” the voice wailed, “You are summoned.” Boots got off the table with a slight shiver and opened the door. Maybe you would think this was a stupid thing, but you see Boots saw no point in giving way to fear. The storm continued to rage all around, but not in the garden of Boots' house. The boy's awe faded to one of dismay. For standing at the garden gate was a twelve foot tall shape. Smoke filled the garden.

“Boots your time has come!” the creature roared, “I, Death, have summoned you!” The ground shook and thunder crashed in the distance.

“I think not!” Boots said. He was really a foolhardy boy. But he had hardly lived, and did not fancy leaving before anything had happened. Then the thunder bolt struck and the house burst into flames. Boots was flung on his face into the mud.”

I stopped talking and crossed my arms grimly. Silence descended throughout the room. You could have heard a pin drop.

“Go on!” Eldark barked, his voice sounding loud in the darkness.

“Sorry, I cannot tell any more tonight!” I said calmly and left the room. “You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens next!”

To Be Continued