Part 22 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 22 – Disbelief
Pewtory the Lesser bard stared at the Peddler’s hand gripping the pommel of the sword. The man’s knuckles were white and the hand trembled slightly. Everything was beginning to unravel quickly. The friend that had been so desperate to accompany him to the point where he had pursued him to Compton had now started to doubt him.
It was the reason why Pewtory remained a loner. The crowds adored him everywhere he went, but the minute the performance ceased and they got to know the man behind the show their opinions changed. Suddenly he was not the quirky genius anymore, but a dangerous lunatic, a man who was considered crazy because he was unwilling to adhere to the grind and tedium of everyday life.
Pewtory had assumed that Archie trusted him and would believe everything he had told him, but here the Peddler was, openly refuting the bard’s story and poised to strike if he did not like what Pewtory had to say.
“I obtained the fish by accident. Well technically that is not true. When I was struggling for money and food, I am ashamed to say I was not above doing what was necessary to survive. Sometimes I resorted to theft. I am not proud of it, but nor do I regret it. If I had not stole then Willow and Wisp would never have come into my life and changed it for the better.
I was performing in a town near Prafton in some tavern or another and doing reasonably well. On my third night I noticed a well dressed woman in the audience. It was the third night she had come to see me and each time she smiled at me coquettishly. At first I was flattered, but pretty soon it was obvious she wanted more, she lingered after every performance although she did not make it too obvious that is what she was doing.
On the fifth night I realised she was the wife of the town’s captain. She was off limits but so attractive that I found the temptation too-“
“Pewtory!” Archie interrupted. His voice a short bark that caused the bard to start. Pewtory saw that Archie had unconsciously drawn his sword from the scabbard a few inches. He gulped at the sight. “The short version if you will.”
Pewtory felt his cheeks colour as anger coursed through him. How dare this man demand answers from Pewtory as if he were a criminal. Suddenly he did not understand why he was wasting his time explaining his actions to the Peddler. He owed the man nothing.
“She had an expensive necklace which she put in the bowl with the fish every night for safe keeping. We slept together, on the second occasion, her husband, the captain found out and charged into the house drunk, she ran to placate him and I jumped out the window and in a moment of spontaneity stole the bowl with the fish and necklace in it. The necklace was a fake and I was so filled with remorse that I kept the fish as a form of punishment to myself. Please I did as-“
“Gloomsake, even your short version rambles on. Is that the honest truth?” Archie said and rubbed his face. The Peddler looked tired. The drink had taken its toll on the older man.
Pewtory’s response was measured. “It is the response I am telling you. Who knows if you believe it or not? I am not sure if I care anymore.”
Archie nodded to himself and lifted his hand clear of his sword and held them aloft. It was a sign of a truce but the tension between the two of them hung in the air like a cloud of smoke.
From the tavern below, the scrap of furniture and a loud thump could be heard which was closely followed by raucous laughter and jeering which slowly faded away. Pewtory longed to be part of that crowd. That is where he belonged, bringing joy to people. When had everything become so serious?
It had begun to rain and window tapped intermittently with the patter of the shower before the wind changed direction leaving them in silence once more.
“Do you still intend to disrupt the Ritual?” Archie said at last. Just eight words yet the weight of them were huge. He glanced down at his fish. Bother Willow and Wisp faced him motionless. Willow’s bulbous eyes seemed larger than ever. There seemed wisdom in those black orbs that defied logic.
Pewtory knew that his answer would determine the outcome of his friendship with the Peddler. Their relationship hung delicately in the balance and Pewtory had the power to restore or destroy it. There was no hesitation in the bard however, when presented with the question like that there was no longer a doubt in his mind. He was surprised at the certainty in his mind. He just hoped Willow and Wisp would forgive him.
“Yes, yes I do,”
Archie bristled, his lips formed into a tight line and once again his hand moved to his sword. Willow and Wisp seemed to sink to the bottom of the bowl. Wisp’s long tail curled up underneath her body. Pewtory knew this would be the reaction he got, but it still hurt. Why could they not see? He did not have a choice.
“The stranger is a powerful man. I have seen what he can do. If it is not me that carries out his biding, then he will kill me and find someone else. He will get his way though, I have no doubt of that. If I am going to die, then I would rather be dead and famous with my friend’s alive rather than dead and forgotten,” Pewtory spoke quickly as Archie rose to his feet. The Peddler seemed to shake all over.
“Most people would choose to die with a clear conscience.”
“All my life I wanted to be remembered on this land, to be part of history. If this is to be my legacy then so be it. It is the stranger that is the evil one here, not me. If I could stop him I would, but he is too powerful.”
“That is if the stranger exists.”
Pewtory had begun to rise from the bed but slumped back in shock. He had accepted the Archie questioned his past but he had never considered the Peddler would not believe him about the stranger. The words were like a hammer blow to the Bard.
“How can you not believe me?” Pewtory’s words came out in a whisper. He sounded like a child who had just been betrayed by his parents. “Do you really think I am capable of such atrocity?”
“You said yourself you have to be extremely dedicated. What was your phrasing again? ‘To be the best at something, you have to live and breathe it. You have to become obsessed with everything on the subject until it consumes you.’ Seems like a convenient excuse to make yourself famous to me. I cannot let you do this.”
Archie strode to the door. A rage consumed the Bard. Pewtory had no idea what the older man intended to do, but he was determined to stop it nonetheless. He leapt from the bed and grabbed the nearest solid object he could lay his hands on, which was the bottle of whiskey.
Before Archie could even turn to see what the Bard was up to, Pewtory brought the bottle down on the man’s skull, shattering the glass and sending the Peddler to floor where he stayed motionless.
Surprise ending! Really enjoying this