Dead Man's Road (Part 1)
Young man Palo Fortayne wrote to himself aloud, “Black foul winds at his back; fathoms through much misfortune; mine emptied pockets light once shined; blind man looking, looking, looking…”
The sickly thin man weakly wrote those words. They may be his last without food or water. What if his savior never comes? The grim fate of his own death, deceased on a patch of dead grass beside a long, lonely rode overcame his thoughts. Soon, the thought tired him and he closed his eyes to rest one final sweet rest.
“Young lad,” a heavenly voice called to him, “Young lad. Open these eyes of yours.”
When his eyes opened, he saw the face of a young woman with long black floppy ears staring down at him, a Norchwestan angel perhaps? He’s going to heaven rather than hell! Palo smiled happily at this angel’s face.
“Her hazel eyes shined beautifully under the sunlit sky,” he mumbled completely delusional, “An angel just as I imagined she would be. Take me away to heaven, oh divine servant of god.”
Ellen frowned, hoping he had not yet gone far from sanity, and said, “It is not the hour nor day for this young lad to depart toward such a fate as a heavenly realm.”
“So…” Palo said dramatically, “She takes me to hell, oh reaper of death. It is just as I imagined as she would be…”
Ellen tried to shake some sense into him, “Neither, nor young lad! The destination decided has not yet to be determined for this young soul!”
Fortayne turned his head to one side, then to another, and back at Ellen, “Oh! I am still alive! Magnificent! Wonderful! Elation galore! How happy I am to still be alive without food or water! Well, soon I will pass, though. Just one more second before the end, they would say.”
“You be a brave one for walking this here path. The road appears to be of no ends, even with the aid of a well bred horse, without mention of a man on two able feet,” Ellen said as she turned to her horse.
“Brave I am not. Rather, an unlucky fellow left on a road to die by my own comrades.”
“The harbinger will not claim this young lad on this lovely day,” Ellen affirmed her claim with some dried meat, bread, and water in her hands.
“Glorious savior!” he shouted in glee, “Of all the men in the world, a woman comes to my rescue! Women are the pinnacles of humankind! What would we do without the female gender? Everyone would starve to death I would say! Even back in the time when we were but hunters, it was the women who kept us from starving! I promise, upon the bones in my body, never to lay harm on women ever again!”
A gentle smile came across Ellen’s face as she observed Palo wasting no time feasting on her spoils. It was delicious, something he had never tasted before. Yet, after that claim he made about women, it was to be expected.
“Divine!” he praised, “What is this meat I am eating? It’s not anything I’ve ever eaten before. It’s so, different, but so good!”
“Snake,” Ellen answered.
If this were any other situation, Palo would have paused at her answer, and then spitted the snake meat in disgust. That, however, is not one of those situations because he was really too hungry to care. So all he did was nod in agreement. After all, why would he complain to the one woman who finally decided to stop for him? Satisfied, Ellen started to pack up for departure.
“Wait!” Palo desperately clung to her arm, “You don’t plan on leaving me? Just give me food and water and I’ll surely perish under this harsh weather. I’ve been here for a week and you are the third rider to come through here! The other two ignored me, but you, oh glorious woman, outdone both men! Please take me with you!”
Ellen frowned grimly at his plea. It’s true, if she leaves him, me might eventually keel over and die. Nobody comes through this road and the distance between one town and another was ridiculous. This road had been a problem for years, and she had planned on fixing it when she was still king. She would say she had business to attend, but what would she do? “Fight the king and die trying,” as Jamie would say. She needed a plan anyway, and she had none.
“You be a scribe of some sort young lad?” Ellen questioned, “A little notice to the pen and paper indicating some sort of skill in the art of writing?”
“Oh yes, yes!” he exclaimed eagerly, wanting to hitch a ride, “I am a poet, journalist, a historian, and in every sense, a writer! My works are well known throughout land and sea! I am Palo Fortayne extraordinaire!”
A charming smile crossed Ellen’s face. She knew his face seemed familiar. This man used to write a few letters for her when she was still king. The use of the famous writer Palo Fortayne may be handy to her.
“Used to write for a former king no doubt,” Ellen scoffed, pushing his buttons, “Written some of the man’s personals perhaps.”
“Of course!” he verified with pride, “The former King Alphonse in fact! The one the older generation calls as ‘the one true king.’ Ay, he was a kind hearted one. You must have read some of my works to have known this!”
“Mostly the scriptures from the old kingdom I’ve pleasured to scan Sir Fortayne. Your works on the Salillean Conflict have delighted these eyes of mine,” Ellen said, leading him further.
“You have taste indeed! That was the king’s and my favorite novel! It’s expected, though, from your clothing. You look like one from the old ages, so, naturally, you would like the old works best. Judging from your looks, you must be one of those ambassadors from Norchwestine. You lucky dogs have not yet been consumed by Eirlock’s rule. I cannot say the same for you, though. The King in Divina is currently holding the few ambassadors who came from Norchwestine. I don’t blame Norchwestine for sending more ambassadors. If the king proposed to remove my rights, I would have done the same!”
The sickly thin man weakly wrote those words. They may be his last without food or water. What if his savior never comes? The grim fate of his own death, deceased on a patch of dead grass beside a long, lonely rode overcame his thoughts. Soon, the thought tired him and he closed his eyes to rest one final sweet rest.
“Young lad,” a heavenly voice called to him, “Young lad. Open these eyes of yours.”
When his eyes opened, he saw the face of a young woman with long black floppy ears staring down at him, a Norchwestan angel perhaps? He’s going to heaven rather than hell! Palo smiled happily at this angel’s face.
“Her hazel eyes shined beautifully under the sunlit sky,” he mumbled completely delusional, “An angel just as I imagined she would be. Take me away to heaven, oh divine servant of god.”
Ellen frowned, hoping he had not yet gone far from sanity, and said, “It is not the hour nor day for this young lad to depart toward such a fate as a heavenly realm.”
“So…” Palo said dramatically, “She takes me to hell, oh reaper of death. It is just as I imagined as she would be…”
Ellen tried to shake some sense into him, “Neither, nor young lad! The destination decided has not yet to be determined for this young soul!”
Fortayne turned his head to one side, then to another, and back at Ellen, “Oh! I am still alive! Magnificent! Wonderful! Elation galore! How happy I am to still be alive without food or water! Well, soon I will pass, though. Just one more second before the end, they would say.”
“You be a brave one for walking this here path. The road appears to be of no ends, even with the aid of a well bred horse, without mention of a man on two able feet,” Ellen said as she turned to her horse.
“Brave I am not. Rather, an unlucky fellow left on a road to die by my own comrades.”
“The harbinger will not claim this young lad on this lovely day,” Ellen affirmed her claim with some dried meat, bread, and water in her hands.
“Glorious savior!” he shouted in glee, “Of all the men in the world, a woman comes to my rescue! Women are the pinnacles of humankind! What would we do without the female gender? Everyone would starve to death I would say! Even back in the time when we were but hunters, it was the women who kept us from starving! I promise, upon the bones in my body, never to lay harm on women ever again!”
A gentle smile came across Ellen’s face as she observed Palo wasting no time feasting on her spoils. It was delicious, something he had never tasted before. Yet, after that claim he made about women, it was to be expected.
“Divine!” he praised, “What is this meat I am eating? It’s not anything I’ve ever eaten before. It’s so, different, but so good!”
“Snake,” Ellen answered.
If this were any other situation, Palo would have paused at her answer, and then spitted the snake meat in disgust. That, however, is not one of those situations because he was really too hungry to care. So all he did was nod in agreement. After all, why would he complain to the one woman who finally decided to stop for him? Satisfied, Ellen started to pack up for departure.
“Wait!” Palo desperately clung to her arm, “You don’t plan on leaving me? Just give me food and water and I’ll surely perish under this harsh weather. I’ve been here for a week and you are the third rider to come through here! The other two ignored me, but you, oh glorious woman, outdone both men! Please take me with you!”
Ellen frowned grimly at his plea. It’s true, if she leaves him, me might eventually keel over and die. Nobody comes through this road and the distance between one town and another was ridiculous. This road had been a problem for years, and she had planned on fixing it when she was still king. She would say she had business to attend, but what would she do? “Fight the king and die trying,” as Jamie would say. She needed a plan anyway, and she had none.
“You be a scribe of some sort young lad?” Ellen questioned, “A little notice to the pen and paper indicating some sort of skill in the art of writing?”
“Oh yes, yes!” he exclaimed eagerly, wanting to hitch a ride, “I am a poet, journalist, a historian, and in every sense, a writer! My works are well known throughout land and sea! I am Palo Fortayne extraordinaire!”
A charming smile crossed Ellen’s face. She knew his face seemed familiar. This man used to write a few letters for her when she was still king. The use of the famous writer Palo Fortayne may be handy to her.
“Used to write for a former king no doubt,” Ellen scoffed, pushing his buttons, “Written some of the man’s personals perhaps.”
“Of course!” he verified with pride, “The former King Alphonse in fact! The one the older generation calls as ‘the one true king.’ Ay, he was a kind hearted one. You must have read some of my works to have known this!”
“Mostly the scriptures from the old kingdom I’ve pleasured to scan Sir Fortayne. Your works on the Salillean Conflict have delighted these eyes of mine,” Ellen said, leading him further.
“You have taste indeed! That was the king’s and my favorite novel! It’s expected, though, from your clothing. You look like one from the old ages, so, naturally, you would like the old works best. Judging from your looks, you must be one of those ambassadors from Norchwestine. You lucky dogs have not yet been consumed by Eirlock’s rule. I cannot say the same for you, though. The King in Divina is currently holding the few ambassadors who came from Norchwestine. I don’t blame Norchwestine for sending more ambassadors. If the king proposed to remove my rights, I would have done the same!”