It had been quite a while since Derrick had been in a town, and Adrian was most definitely a sight to behold. In fact, it was a pleasure for all senses. All around were sounds of singing and laughter, the feeling of warm fires roasting large, wonderful smelling slabs of meat, and sights of many beautiful women. The two tired men stepped into a large, welcoming tavern.
Inside the tavern were many strangers laughing and conversing, a stage with minstrels dancing, and the smell of delicious food wafting through the air. He had seen festivities in Old Brick, but never of this magnitude.
“Quite a change from trees and dirt, eh?” Kerdik laughed.
“I must say, I have never seen such…” Derrick was at a loss for words. Such joy and euphoria from so many people; it was almost too much.
“You look like you could use a drink.”
“I… yes, that sounds nice.”
Many pints later, the two began to relax and walk away from the bar. They awkwardly stumbled over to one of the less crowded tables and sat down. In front of them were several round men, one of which was bald and large nosed, and one rather attractive woman. The woman sat next to the fat, bald man in such a way that seemed to say they were married. Derrick had always wondered how such odd matches happened so frequently, but chalked it up to status, money or (hopefully) personality. He had almost completely lost himself in thought before Kerdik’s elbow hit him in the ribs, knocking him abruptly back into reality. He then realized that Kerdik and the three men had been drunkenly conversing for the past ten minutes. The presumed wife had been keeping quiet with a slight look of irritation on her face. Derrick began to listen to the conversation.
“…No, my friend, you don’t understand. We’ve had many a bard pass through our gates, and none of their songs could compare to old Rory’s over there.” Said the bulbous nosed man.
“I have no trouble believing that-“
“As a matter of fact, we have three bards, and most outsiders that come through leave in shame when they hear any of-“
“I’m sure, but my friend Derrick here is the best there ever was and the best there ever will be.”
“You’ve not even heard Rory!!!”
“And you, sir, have not heard Derrick.”
“What’s say we make a bet?” said the bulbous nosed man.
“Ahhh, we make it interesting! How much am I winning tonight?”
Derrick was growing nervous. He could understand people thinking he was good bard, he had been working at it for years, but betting on him against a man of unknown talent was completely different. He had no idea how good he was, and this stranger spoke with just as much conviction as Kerdik. He didn’t want Kerdik to lose any money.
“Bah! Money can be regained. I’ll take your weapons, and your money.” The bulbous nosed stranger grinned a yellow toothed grin.
The fun washed from Kerdik’s face. “Very well,” he said, “And what do I win?”
The man laughed. “Sure, you can hope you’ll win. Ha, I’ll bet my wife! If your friend can get more applause than Rory, you can spend a night with my Miriam here.”
The woman became enraged, and slapped the fat, bald man. So much for personality.
“Don’t worry, Miriam,” said the man, attempting to reassure his extremely disgruntled wife. “He’ll never win against Rory. This bet is but a joke.”
“Miriam, such a lovely name.” Said Kerdik, an evil smile on his face. “I accept.”
“Wonderful! That axe will look great on my wall.”
“Wonderful indeed, your wife will look great on my manhood.”
“Do I have no say in this?” interjected Derrick.
“No. Your friend here made sure of that.” And with that, the fat, bald man arose and walked over to a dark haired man, and spoke in his hear. The dark haired man looked over at Derrick, rolled his eyes in frustration, and arose from his seat. The two of them walked over to Derrick.
“Come, let’s get this over with.” Grumbled the dark haired man, who Derrick assumed was Rory.
“Yes, come on, Derrick. Your audience awaits.”
Derrick reluctantly got out of his seat, and walked with the two of them to the stage.
When they stepped up onto the heightened platform, a blanket of silence fell across the whole tavern. The fat man spoke.
“We have here, a challenge!!!”
The audience applauded heartily, and with much excitement.
The man pointed to Derrick. “This outsider here…”
The audience politely applauded.
“Wishes to challenge Adrian’s very own Rory Lockshire…” the crowd went wild. The situation looked bad for Derrick.
“Now…who will go first?”
“I will.” Said Rory. They both looked at him. He responded, “It doesn’t really matter when I go, so why not?”
Derrick and the fat man nodded.
Rory stood in the middle of the stage, and began to present his piece.
“In the night he arrived
Like a storm in the skies
To terrorize all in his path
In the dark he arose
The Highwayman’s Ghost
Dressed in clothes darker than black
Like a shadow he moves
Beneath the pale moon
If you venture down Blackwater Road
From the lake where he drowned
You’ll still hear the sounds
Of the wretched Highwayman’s Ghost
O, from the lake will his spirit arise
O, in the dark you will meet your demise
O, in the shadows will he take his form
O, he’ll appear in the mists of the moor
Rory then played a long instrumental bridge, full of eerie melodies. This man was good. He finished with a reprise of his last lyrical stanza:
O, from the lake will his spirit arise
O, in the dark you will meet your demise
O, in the shadows will he take his form
O, he’ll appear in the mists of the moor”
He took a bow and the audience went wild. Derrick had never heard such applause. What was he to play after that? He thought for a moment, and then stepped up to the front of the stage. The audience fell silent once again. Derrick cleared his throat, and began.
“From the kingdom of shadows emerged these black wraiths
In the darkness of night they give life to the graves
And summon the hollow to do work so depraved
Their unholy mission: destroy and enslave
In darkest of times, the blackest of rhymes
Were used to summon such horrors arcane
In darkest of times, the blackest of rhymes
Were used to summon the worst kind of pain
Derrick played a short interlude, changing the mood of the song.
Still, we did not give up
Still, we never backed down
Still, we never surrendered
Still, our kings kept their crowns
The audience began to cheer. Derrick’s spirits rose a bit.
O, the battle was bloody indeed
But our warriors fought till the end
They led us to our victory
Our home they failed not to defend
And through the bloody massacres
Of Shadowlord and man
We spat in the face of death
And in the end we won
Derrick, caught up in the moment, improvised an entire verse on his lute, full of notes picked in an uplifting order at a fast pace. He felt amazing.
He finished the song with a burst of energy.
So if you’re feeling poorly
About your daily life
Remember all the men that fell
To save us from such blight
And maybe there will come a day
When you will have to fight
And you may have to give your life
For what you know is right
And on that day the victory
Will finally be yours
And you will be the hero
Revered forevermore!!!!”
The crowd burst into applause. Cheering, screaming, everyone was chanting his name. Derrick took a bow, and the applause got even louder. He looked over to see what Rory was doing, and was shocked to see him applauding as well. Derrick had most definitely won.
Rory walked over to Derrick.
“Many years have I bested bards at what they do. But you sir… you are a truly extraordinary talent. Congratulations, this match is yours.” He shook Derrick’s hand. The audience went mad with joy.
“I… thank you.” Said Derrick, unable to say anything else.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” said Rory, “My food is cold, and I’m still quite hungry. It’s time to order a new plate.” And with that, he walked off, back to his seat.
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