DoSP Part 8, Xander's Diary

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Diary of a Sailor Princes

Part 8

 Twenty-Third Day of the Gray Time

Finally today, the first runner came back in sight. It was not Swiftfoot. I grabbed my hair and tugged on it. I soon stopped as it was painful. I was already going to suffer enough pain when my head got chopped off. Anastasia was grinning at me from the platform. She thinks I will soon be dead, well she will soon learn different. I sent Sharp to listen for any news of Swiftfoot. I did not have to wait long.

“He is snoring just like a hare next to a roaring waterfall a days ride from here.” Sharp said in disgust, “He thought he was such a swift hare and the others were little turtles.”

“Deadeye, shoot his hat off!” I cried desperately, “Perhaps that will soon wake him up.”

“Now try not to rush me.” Deadeye said in a maddeningly slow voice. He unstrapped his musket ever so slowly. Con smacked him with a twig.

“Stop it, Deadeye!” he shrieked, “Do you want Boots to lose his head? I bet you do! Betcha you want to marry the princess yourself!”

“Why the heck would I marry that sour faced shrew?” Deadeye snorted, “I never want to hear the word princess, ever again. In fact, if I never marry it will be amazing!” Of course he had to lower his musket and stare at Con when he said this.

“Well, just wake the lazy brute up!” Sharp snarled.

“You lot are crowding me!” Deadeye protested, “I need absolute concentration to make this shot. Allow me to rest.” he took several very slow and deep breathes. I pounced on the wretch and shook him wildly.

“I c-cannot focus!” he cried, his teeth rattling. I wrapped the musket out of his grip, cocked it, thrust it back into his hands and pointed it upwards!”

“Shoot the blasted hat!” I screamed.

“Here come the other runners!” Bale wailed, “What will happen to us?”

“Your head will join the heads of seventy-five other princes!” Kalin said from behind me. I jumped. Why did he have to sneak up behind me? This was a fine mess! Everything had gone from bad to worse. And of course I would not be able to give poor Anne a wedding present. Why did the dear girl have to suffer a fate like marrying the stuck up heir of a bountiful kingdom? Why the prince would probably ill-treat her. Everyone was against me, but maybe I deserved this fate. Suddenly, Deadeye licked his trigger finger, held it aloft, kissed it and put it on the trigger.

“Is that for luck?” Con asked, “Cause we need it.” Deadeye set his eye to the scope then fired. There was a blast. I saw a streak of red whistling over the crowd. It passed between King Caspian's two first fingers which he had raised in the victory sign. Judging by his yell, he had felt the fire. Deadeye smiled and turned his back on the race.

“Five.” he said slowly.

“The racers are closing in fast, only ten seconds more.” Kalin said, sounding nervous, “Where is your man?”

“I am going to eat him for breakfast!” Hunger rumbled, “I could eat anything now, including fresh baked traitor!”

“You will need plenty of wine and ale to wash that morsel down.” Thirst said unhappily.

“Four!” Deadeye said.

“Stop counting!” I yelled.

“I hate killing idiots.” Kalin muttered.

“You mean that you are going to lob off my precious head?” I screamed.

“Three!” Deadeye said.

“I thought you were all fairly decent for humans.” Sharp said, “It was rather pleasant sailing with you all.” He shook my hand.

“I am not going to die!” I protested weakly.

“Two!” Deadeye said.

“Wait- I hear something?” Sharp cried.

“Someone filling pitcher of water for refreshments?” Parch asked brightly, as he scratched his mostly bald head.

“Someone killing the fatted calf for refreshments?” Hunger asked with a wistful look.

“No stupid!” Sharp said.

“Swiftfoot?” I cried my heart leaping in my chest.

“One!” Deadeye cried. Then I saw the cloud of dust. Down the road came the swift footed elf. Dust whirling around his charging feet. But the foremost runner was only steps away from the line. The crowd was cheering wildly. King Caspian looked up at me and grinned. He was probably expected to see my head bouncing soon. To bad for him.

“Swiftfoot!” I screamed, “Come on, man!”

“Run!” Bale shrieked.

“Faster!” Con yelled.

“I will give some of my bun!” Hunger bellowed.

“I share my cask of wine with you!” Thirst roared.

“You loathsome bean brain!” Sharp snarled, “You are not even breathing hard!”

“Zero!” Deadeye said. He had not even finished saying the word when Swiftfoot shot passed the foremost runner like a streak of lightening and zipped over the finish line. I would have burst into tears if I had not had such amazing control of my emotions. Swiftfoot leaped lightly over to us, while tying his foot up again. The idiot was not even winded.

“Why Boots, are those tears in your eyes?” he asked loudly.

“No!” I snarled, “You kicked dust into them and it hurts like anything.” Deadeye shrugged.

“Course next time I shall be more careful.” he said.

Kalin escorted us down from our platform and up to the King's platform. My head was sticking high in the air and I had a sense of accomplishment, even though I had done nothing but stand and sweat. King Caspian Suspesian Alvaro Montgore Lemuel Gammon the XV stared hard at me. But Anastasia had a smile on her face. I felt a tingly feeling just looking at her. Then she looked away. I was delighted. She must have been impressed with Swiftfoot's remarkable and rather sudden success.

“Your majesty.” I said with a bow.

“I have beaten all of your swiftest runners!” Swiftfoot interrupted as he glared at the king, “Boots has won, give him your precious daughter's hand!”

“Not to mention having made a ship that can fly!” Deadeye said as he leaned on his musket.

“You tried to assassinate me!” King Caspian roared.

“Who me?” Deadeye looked completely horrified, “How dare you suggest such a thing, your majesty!” Sharp cocked his fists.

“That is two times Boots has passed your tests.” he snarled, “I say he has won fair and square!”

“The elf does happen to be right, your majesty.” Kalin said.

“When I want your opinion, Kalin, I shall ask for it!” King Caspian roared, “Now leave me, I must consider this turn of fate! Come daughter!” he stormed off, followed by his courtiers and daughter.

“I personally some much better Kings who would be delighted to have you for a son-in-law.” Deadeye told me. But I did not care, I wanted to marry Anastasia or nobody.

Signing off for now, but I will be back, so try not to leave,

Me

Twenty-Sixth day of the Gray Time

“I swear King Caspian Suspesian Alvaro Montgore Lemuel Gammon the XV scum of the society of Kings of the Third World has no intention of letting Boots marry his daughter!” Deadeye said.

“I know a lovely girl or two who would make much more delightful wife.” Sharp muttered, “Not to mention more accommodating fathers.”

“No thank you!” I said, “I will not back down from his fight!”

“Is this just about winning or losing?” Swiftfoot asked, “Did I just run for you, for no other reason then you wanted to prove yourself a better man then the King? If so this is not my fight and I have no reason in the world to help you anymore!”

“Swiftfoot is right.” Bale said sadly, “Boots if this is about pride I may as well go home. I can be so much more comfortable on my own little mountain then rotting up here.”

“But Boot's ship is the finest.” Con said.

“Thank you Con.” I said with a smile, then I glared at the others, “Any other complaints while we are on the subject?” Hunger raised his hand.

“I am hungry.” he mumbled.

“Yeah, and thirsty.” Parch said.

“Do we get paid in the end?” Deadeye asked, “I think I could start a living for myself. Maybe as a forester or hunter for some deserving nobleman. But I lack the starting funds. I may have slightly disobeyed my father so I shan't be getting any from-”

“Silence!” Sharp barked. Deadeye stopped in mid sentence. Sharp walked over to the porthole of the cabin and unlatched it. I wondered if he was eavesdropping on the king again.

“This better have something to do with a square meal.” Hunger grunted.

“Or a round drink.” Parch said in a loud whisper. Sharp turned around his face beaming.

“Tomorrow someone in our company has to enter a drinking contest.” he said. Parch beamed.

“No problem.” I said in a relieved voice.

“If our man loses, all our heads will roll.” Sharp said dryly.

“Now he is getting personal!” Deadeye barked, “My father may be mad at me, but he will not take kindly to my head rolling.”

“I got friends in high places who might get angered too!” Swiftfoot growled.

“Take him down, Parch!” Hunger boomed, “I am not ready to lose my prized possession! Dearer to me then food!”

“What happens if we win?” I asked.

“Try not to be greedy, Boots.” Parch grumbled, “We get to live, obviously.”

“Boots gets to marry the princess!” Sharp said dryly, “I overheard the adviser telling the king to tell us that because there is no way we can beat their giant.”

“Giant?” I echoed with a pained look.

“Want me to biff him, Boots?” Parch boomed, “I am rather portly myself.”

“Save your breath for drinking!” I growled, “The king better deliver on his promise this time. I am getting angry.” I wondered if the king would be more accommodating if he knew that I was really a prince.

Signing off in frustration and disgust,

Me

Twenty-Eighth Day of the Gray Time

Finally we were summoned to the drinking game. That is if you could call it a drinking game. If I had been given the chance to give it a title, I would have called it, “The Cup of Death” game. It was not a pleasant thought that if Parch somehow failed to be thirstier then a giant, we would all wandering around headless. I shuddered. Would anyone care? Surely not father. He had six, well five since Terek has been lost, other sons to put on the throne. Perhaps madra would miss me. Poor madra, I had never been as good a son to her as Zeno. Zeno the wonder prince, everyone's hero. He would miss me. Or would he? He turned really boring after marrying that princess with the strange name. Yaron also seemed very preoccupied with his socially awkward Lady. What was her name? Alie or Alia or something like that. Of course Waylan could care less. When he was not busy hunting, he was with Verek. I was pretty sure Waylan poached and Verek stole. How embarrassing. Especially since they were both princes and incredibly rich. Who knew what Uli liked or disliked? Perhaps he would care and perhaps he would not. Who could say? Terek would have cared, but he was gone. Gone for good. Probably dead. Some of the girls would care, but they were girls and who cared about girls?

“Drinks up!” Kalin barked as he slammed two wooden beer mugs on a table. Servents and slaves were puling kegs of wine, beer, ale and water around the two seated opponents. Parch looked very some and unimpressive next to the twenty foot tall thickly built giant.

“Majesty?” the giant rumbled, “I request the honor of eating my opponents when they fail!”

“Man, is he ever optimistic.” Deadeye muttered.

“Well, I have a little trick.” Con said, “I have no intention of letting him eat me.”

“You and what arm is going to stop him?” I asked.

“This one!” Con said and patted his bundle of twigs which he carried everywhere.

“Well, I think I shall hope more along the lines of Parch winning then those twigs turning into soldiers.” I said. Con shrugged.

“So be it.” he said, “But my twigs may come in handy one day.”

“Begin!” Kalin shouted. There was a gurgling sound and the giant drained an entire cask in one setting. My heart sank. Had I underestimated Parch? What was he doing? He seemed to be tying all the casks together, and had yet to take a single swig. The giant started on his second barrel.

“Start drinking!” I yelled.

“Parch, drink and think!” Deadeye yelled.

“Drink or I shall kick you!” Swiftfoot threatened.

“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” my companions and I chanted simultaneously. Someone touched my arm. I whirled, one hand darting to my belt. But of course I still had no sword, scimitar or saber. Curse the Grimes family. To my surprise, it was the Princess. Anastasia herself. Feeling like the idiot I had styled myself, I bowed. It was probably the worst bow I had ever given anyone. Perhaps I had acted like a peasant to long and no longer remembered my proper manners. I was disgusted with myself, especially since I had wanted to impress her.

“You are a strange man, Boots.” she said, “You managed to build a flying ship, then you persevered even though you knew my father wanted you gone and made it clear.”

“Why is that strange?” I demanded, “Even fools can have the help of enchantress.”

“But enchantress are harder to fool then ordinary people.” Anastasia said, “Harder to get help from then it is to build a-”

“I have not the faintest clue on shipbuilding.” I interrupted, “All I know is that an enchantress gave me the ship in return for kindness and my seven companions are the people she bade me befriend.”

“Good luck friends?” she gasped, “You cannot possibly lose, but if all fails my father will have you ambushed.”

“Good thing my friend Con has twigs that can turn into soldiers then.” I smirked. Anastasia stared at me.

“You are not very nice.” she said at last.

“Neither are you.” I retorted rudely. Why could I not just shut my mouth? Our extremely rude and awkward conversation was cut off by a loud thump. I looked up and found that the giant had fallen over in a completely drunken stupor. Parch had sat down in his chair. He did not appear to have so much as moved one keg. I stared.

“The loser is-” the king began in a slow dramatic voice.

“Check the kegs!” Kalin interrupted. I began to have more respect for him.

“How dare you interrupt me?” the king roared, “I do not need to check the kegs. My man has drained five of his twenty barrels. The peasant's man has not even touched them!”

“Begging your pardon, sir.” Parch said dryly, and held up the end of a straw, “My barrels are dry as bone. Might I finish off his barrels?” he licked his lips. Apparently, Parch had inserted the straw so he could empty all of his barrels at once. Loud cheers burst out of my friends' mouths. Anastasia walked off with her nose in the air. The only further news for today is that the King still refuses to see me. One would think that the crowd should have caught on by now. But no, the only boos were for me. The king was cheered even though he is a fink!

Signing off in disgust,

Me

To Be Continued