#146 – Write Two Prayers for your Character…

…one to be said in private, one to be said in public.

The sky was gloomy, befitting for the day.  Desmond Dire stared up at the dark clouds above him and fought back the feelings that swirled inside him.  Nobody around him would look at him, keeping their distance as they each stood in morbid silence.

At the head of the assembled masses, two bodies lay in ceremonial wrappings atop piles of wood.  A funeral pyre for two taken before their time.  A wife and a son.

A man in a robe stood between the two forms, speaking to the crowd about life and death.  In his hand, he held their most sacred book but he didn’t need to open it to know the words he spoke.  Too many times over the past months he stood up to speak for the dead.

Desmond barely heard the words being offered, his mind and body both numb.  In an instant, his world had come to a violent and bloody end at the edge of a sword.  Dimly, he was aware that the holy man had called on the mass to join him in prayer.  Desmond’s mouth moved as if a life of it’s own, parroting the words being spoken around him. 

“Oh Lord, take these souls from this life and deliver them onto salvation.  Forgive them their transgressions and look into their being to find them worthy.  We ask unto you to, Mighty Creator, take mercy on them as they walk with you into eternity.  Blessed are you and your kingdom, we pledge ourselves forever in your service.”

The prayer completed, the holy man gestured to his two apprentices who lowered their torches onto the pyres.  The flames hungrily consumed the wood and soon swallowed the bodies.  Many people stepped back as the heat struck their bodies, some crying out in sadness as they reached for the ashes and glowing embers that rose into the air.

Despite the brightness from the pyres, Desmond could only see darkness.  Inside, he was cold and empty.  Turning away from the service, Desmond stalked away.  Friends and neighbors avoided looking in his direction, the animosity pouring from him in waves of anger and hatred.

Desmond’s feet moved as if willed by a power not his own and he soon found himself at the ruins of his family home.  The remaining structure was black with ash and the air was still rank with the stink of burning wood and metal.  Desmond’s gaze fell to the grass stained red from their blood.  In her final moments, his wife had taken their son’s hand into her own as if to comfort him in their final moments.  That was where he’d found them.

Grief welled up inside of Desmond and the world collapsed around him.  His knees buckled and delivered him roughly to the ground as he let out a wail of agony.  Desmond’s hand flew to the dagger he kept on his belt and he lifted it above his head.

“There is no mercy.  I know this to be true now.  So I speak to Mortia, Queen of the Death.  King Amon has laid siege to this land for far too long and his forces have taken everything from my life.  I have tried to have faith in justice but I find it in jest.  And so I have turned from the light and instead pledge myself to the darkness, if only you grant me the power to avenge those taken by the mad king!  My life is yours!  And my death is my sacrifice!”

A heartbeat passed and then another.  Silence reigned over Desmond.  He hadn’t expected a response to his askance, but was prepared to show the Black Lady his resolve for his vow.  Turning the blade inward, Desmond drove the sharp metal into his chest without hesitation.  Pain exploded inside of him as he fell backwards and sprawled out on the cool grass, however it was but a pin prick compared to the agony of his loss.  His breath came out in a strangled gasp as his strength drained from him, flowing from his bleeding wound.

Unblinking eyes stared up at the clouds above him, the light of life fading away.  Just as darkness closed in, Desmond saw a shadow fall over him and soft sinister laughter filled the air then there was nothing.

As sudden as death came, his return happened.  Sitting up suddenly, Desmond was instantly aware that the pain in his chest was gone.  Touching his flesh, he was unsurprised to find it cold and unrelenting.

“You awaken.” A voice spoke up from behind him.  Hastily getting to his feet, Desmond found himself before a beautiful woman with pale skin like snow and hair as dark as a raven’s feathers.  She word a black robe that hung loosely from her body and carried a staff in her hand, the head adorned by a purple gem that glowed faintly.

“I…am not alive.” Desmond replied, not a question but a statement.

“No.  I have heard you call for vengeance and I have heeded your words, Desmond Dire.  I will help you in your quest to fell the mad king.  If that is still what you want.”

Desmond dropped to one knee, lowering his head in deference, “Yes, my Black Lady.”

Mortia smiled as she placed a single finger beneath his chin and lifted him back to a standing position.  “Excellent.  I could certainly use someone so devoted to a cause.  With my assistance, you shall reign chaos and madness across the land.  King Amon will suffer as you have and then he will know my cold touch.”

Mortia’s cold blue eyes studied Desmond’s face for a moment, “But to be my agent, you must possess a more appropriate countenance.”  Lips as icy as the deepest winter touched Desmond’s and he felt the burning cold that the most frigid winds bring sear into his flesh.  Still, there was no pain, only exhilaration that raced through him. 

Reason seemed to crumble around Desmond and he saw beyond the veil of eternity.  The frailty of life and finality of death.  Eternity spread out before him, revealing how short and small his life really was.  Finally, Mortia pulled away and smiled as she inspected him again.  “Much better.”  She stated with approval then produced a mirror that appeared from thin air to show Desmond his reflection, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The face that gazed back at Desmond was a grinning skull, a dim blue light glowing inside the otherwise empty sockets.  Desmond’s hand reached up to touch his face only to find rough bone where there was once flesh.  At first, there was shock then a low chuckle clicked from his throat.  It bubbled up until Desmond threw back his head and laughed at the swirling skies above him.

“A handsomer visage I could ne’er imagine, my lovely Black Lady!” Desmond declared as he plucked the mirror from her hand and turned it to see himself from different angles.  “This will certainly save time in shaving, at the very least!”

“I am so glad you approve, my dear.  For I have a place among my court for one such as you.”  Mortia said with a satisfied smile.  Another twirl of her hand and a package of clothing appeared in her hand.  On top, a hat with two sweeping points and a small silver skull set in the middle, “Every Queen needs a fool.”

Desmond picked up the hat and twirled it on one finger before slipping it onto his bony head.  “Of course, my Queen.”  Desmond said happily, “They say the fat pompous ass that would be king is mad.  But when I’m done with him and his own, they’ll wish they’d been born stable whipping boys.”

“Then go, Desmond Dire.  Seed your chaos and light the fires of madness across this land.”  Mortia demanded, spreading her hands across the horizon.

Desmond shrugged on the black and grey coat Mortia had summoned, decked out with diamonds and spades, “Desmond Dire doesn’t live here anymore.  He died with his wife and son two nights ago.”  He twirled experimentally and smoke wrapped around his right arm to form a ebon staff with a skull head similar to his, complete with swept point hat, “I’m the Skull Jester forever more.  Now let’s see what kind of trouble I can get into.”

And dark laughter echoed throughout the land, waking children in their beds and sending fitful nightmares to a king unaware of the evil his selfish actions had just unleashed on the land.

Behind the Random: It’s been a while since I’ve done a Skull Jester story and this seemed like a good topic to do one of the many origins of the Skull Jester.  I’d like to say I had the idea immediately, but I actually hum’d and haw’d over this topic for a while before I came up with the idea to do this story.