Amos Daragon_ The Mask Wearer - Bryan Perro [30]
The old man nodded. “I already have all I need in this hat. The truth is that what I want is company. Would you do me the honor of sharing these provisions with me?”
“With pleasure!” Amos answered. He was starving.
“My name is Junos,” said the storyteller, “and you, young man, what is your name?”
Surprised, Amos said, “Is Junos your real name? Like the character in your story?”
“My friend, I take inspiration where I can find it. All my characters, stupid or intelligent, bear my name. This reminds me of the time when my father used to tell me stories. All the heroes of his tales had my name too.”
“My name is Amos Daragon and I’m pleased to meet you,” Amos said.
“Same here,” the old man said. “As you can see, I tell stories for a living, that’s all I’m able to do. And I’m always looking for good tales. Tell me where you’ve come from and what you’re doing here. Tell me how you lost your parents too. I’m interested because I lost mine many years ago.”
Amos felt that he could trust Junos. There was something youthful and sparkling in the old man’s eyes. Except for the old lady in white he had met at the fountain in the neighboring village, Amos had not spoken to anyone in several days. He was happy to find such a likeable person to talk to.
Before he began his story, Amos told the old man that he might not believe everything he was going to hear, yet he swore that it was the pure truth. While savoring the good food that his host offered him, Amos talked about the realm of Omain, about his conversation with the mermaid at the bay of caverns and the task she had entrusted him with. Amos also told him how he had duped Lord Edonf. The young traveler related the events of Bratel-la-Grande and mentioned Barthelemy, now a stone statue like everybody else. Then he described his encounter with Beorf, Yaune the Purifier’s game of truth, the blind cat, the druid who had a mushroom growing from his neck, the gorgons, and the book that he had found in Beorf’s father’s secret library. He told the story of the pendant that he had left with Beorf so that it would not fall into the hands of the gorgons, then he related his departure from Bratel-la-Grande. He expressed his regret at having left his friend behind. He also mentioned what he had learned about the dreadful basilisk.
Amos told Junos everything. But all of it seemed strangely far away now, as if it had happened years ago. By the time he ended his story, night was falling. He and Junos had been talking for more than three hours. Puzzled by this incredible tale, the old man had asked many questions, wanting details about this and that.
“It is a very nice story and I believe every word,” Junos said when Amos finished. “Now I’m going to tell you one about the woods of Tarkasis. I hope that you will believe me too. I stopped telling this story several years ago, because everyone thought I was mad. So I decided to conceal the truth and just tell these little made-up stories that children like and that make grown-ups smile. Do you want to hear the story of a great misfortune?”
Happy to be with such an interesting person, Amos was more than willing. “I’m listening, and be assured that I’m ready to believe what you tell me,” Amos said.
“Many long years ago,” began the old man, “near the woods of Tarkasis, there lived a little boy. He had beautiful dark, curly hair, the big smile of a happy child, an overflowing imagination, and a magnificent dog. He loved this dog more than anything else. His father was a farmer and his mother made the best pancakes in the realm. His parents always told him not to go to the woods. Apparently, there were malevolent forces that made those who dared to venture there disappear. One day the boy’s dog was lost, and the boy heard it bark in the forest. He thought that it was in danger and so he entered the forest without taking his parents’ warning into account. He walked for a long time. The trees had strange shapes. There were flowers everywhere. It was the most beautiful