Secret Storytime

Something was different that night. Greybeard would usually leave with the last of them and totter off to his cottage. He used a staff to help him walk. Tonight, though, he sat in silence long after the children left.

This created a small problem. Runt usually waited until everyone left before moving. It was safest that way. Perhaps the old man had fallen asleep? Runt shifted slightly, preparing to move, when the low, rasping voice called out across the clearing.

“I hear you out there, you know? As clearly as you see me, I hear you. You come here almost every night, but never closer. Why not come sit by the fire?”

Runt held his breath and sat completely still.

“A shy one, are you? Perhaps you’re not allowed out with the others? Would this help?”

Greybeard leaned across and tipped over the water pot that simmered by the fire. The glowing coals hissed, spat and went dark. Runt grabbed his bucket and pouch and prepared to flee.

“You can run if you like. I don’t mind. But there’s something you want to ask me, isn’t there?”

Runt paused. Actually there were a lot of things he wanted to ask.

“You won’t tell?” he called out timidly. “You won’t say I’ve been listening? You won’t say you saw me?”

Greybeard chuckled. “Lad, I haven’t seen anything in more than ten years. I’m blind.”

Runt inched forward and then paused. Then inched forwards. Then paused.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked in a wavering voice, feeling scared and foolish at the same time.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust anybody, mister.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Greybeard wheezed, “but I can’t stay here all night. The cold gets in my bones. Did you want to ask me something? Only one question tonight. Ask me another tomorrow, if you like.”

Runt, by this time, had edged close enough to make out the old man’s face in the starlight. His eyes, indeed, were clouded. “Greybeard and grey eyes” Runt thought to himself. Funny that he’d never noticed that before.

“Will you sit?” Greybeard asked, indicating the log nearby.

“No, thanks. Not this time.”

“And your question?”

Runt had thought about this a lot. He went to sleep each night wondering.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I’d like to know, what’s the most dangerous creature out in the Deeps? Which one?”

“Ahhhh.” Greybeard sat back. “That’s a good question. Which do you think?”

“The hopper and kiddners sound bad, but only if you threaten them. The mammoth sounds bad, but only if you don’t spot it first, and they’re big, so if you miss it, that’s your fault. And the drop-bears are deadly. But only if you don’t check the trees. And if you see one on the ground you can get away.”

“Yes, all good points.”

“Which makes me think the wolf is the most dangerous. But I don’t believe it.” Runt concluded. What he didn’t say was, “because I have one as a pet and it’s lovely.”

“Hmmm. Yes, the wolves. You know, we talk about the wolves a lot because they aren’t afraid to enter the farmlands. And they hunt at night which makes them more dangerous. I’m going to answer your question but first I need to tell you a secret.” He leaned forward and whispered. His voice grated like a sword across stone. “I once knew a little girl who kept a wolf as a pet. It was the friendliest creature I ever met.”

Runt’s hair prickled all over. Greybeard leant back and kept talking.

“But you didn’t hear that from me. And I haven’t answered your question. The most dangerous creature out in the Deeps is none of the ones we’ve discussed.”

“It’s not? But then what is?”

“Before I tell you, you must know, it’s forbidden to talk about them. By orders of the Captain himself. I could get in a whole pile of trouble.”

“I won’t tell, I promise!”

“Ah, but how do I know I can trust you?” Greybeard chuckled, and Runt could have sworn those blind eyes glimmered in the dark. Instead of answering, Runt simply sat down on the log next to the old man and waited. When Greybeard continued, he talked in a whisper.

“We called them Harpies. Strange little creatures, only one or two feet tall, with the face of a person, and with arms and legs. But they’re not people. They’re furry, and have a tail, and they live in the fey-trees. And they fly!”

“They fly?”

“Shhhhh. Yes, they fly. Not like a bird as such. They have this sort of skin stretched between their arms and legs. They move unbelievably fast. All you see is a blur of fur and wings if you disturb one.”

“But what do they do? Do they bite?”

“No, you don’t understand. They’re intelligent. They don’t just have the face of a person. They think like a person. But worse. They have some kind of magic. They’re witches.”

“Witches…” Runt echoed. With the cold of night setting in this word came out of his mouth as a puff of fog.

“Witches. They can steal your soul with their magic. They can put you to sleep. And if enough of them gang up, they can carry your sleeping body back to their tree caves, where they suck your blood until you’re just a dried-out husk. And you won’t even know they’re doing it because they hypnotise you, see? They put a spell on your mind! I know all this because the little girl, the girl from the farm –“

“Hey!” A voice rang out across the clearing. A bright light streamed over the campfire. “What are you up to here, mumbling to yourself, Greybeard? It’s time you went home.”

“Thank you, officer. I must have fallen asleep.” Greybeard muttered.

The guard helped the old man to his feet. Runt, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

Greybeard was not at the campfire the following night. From atop the tannery roof Runt saw the lanterns mill around the clearing uncertainly, and then drift off again in small groups.

The same thing happened the following night, and the night after. On the fourth night an old lady was sitting in his spot. She told the children fairy tales about dragons, princesses, orcs, and goblins. There were witches, dwarves, knights, and spells. There were pirates on boats, and great storms, and evil creatures from the deeps. Runt liked the stories, but he knew they were make-believe.

No one asked about Greybeard or, if they did, Runt was not there to hear the answer.