Free The Choosing by Jeremy Laszlo, Ronnell Porter

arrive.  He stepped then nimbly to the bar beside the three drunken men, turning his back to the great polished stone slab that was the bar placed his hands behind him, each to one side and rested them palms down on the edge of the stone surface.  Despite his apparent age, despite his withered features, he lifted himself gingerly to sit upon the edge of the stone surface with grace beyond that of those around him.  The room still stood silent, everyone fearing to move or make a sound as if they might scare the old man back to his seat.  The white haired man looked around the room again as if remembering where he was, and then inhaled silently to speak.  Everyone in the room leaned nearer as if his ancient lips would not be able to make a sound big enough for them to hear.  He spoke then in a melodious tone to the dozens of unworthy human ears. 
    “Would you be so kind as to let me recite a tale both old and glorious?”  It was as if music escaped his lips when they parted, the entire audience already enthralled just sat silently waiting for him to continue, and he did.
     
    “Once was a man blessed with powers so grand,
    The women could not help but adore.
    Unite his race was the mission he had,
    Given to him by his god Gorandor
    It took him no time to travel the land,
    His body’s size of a man times four.
    Yearning to save his race of man,
    Whose conditions of life were so poor.
    Though peace he wanted, he did understand,
    To save them he must make war.
    Many armies he crushed beneath his heel,
    Improving man’s life with his sword.
    Banners rose, his cause gaining strength,
    His race was united once more.
    It would not be long, he was assured
    Armies would march with him by the score.
    They cleared the lands of the evil it had,
    And brought peace to his world’s doors.
    His quest fulfilled, but man not safe,
    For evil is like a festering sore.
    Needing to ensure the safety of his race,
    Knowing all too well their ancient lore.
    He built a great city, named after his fathers,
    Then arose from the stone, castle Valdadore.
    For many hundred a year peace was protected,
    The King now growing old and sore.
    He passed his Kingdom to his only son,
    Known now as King Sorantore.
    Evil again strikes at our borders,
    Always into the shields of Valdadore.
    But each day the evil grows stronger,
    As dark armies amass once more.
    It seems the dark ones test our defenses,
    Anxious to settle the score.
    Too soon it seems our world again,
    Will be drenched with the blood of war.
    It falls to you, the young and the strong,
    Blessed by the gods at your core.
    To pick up the banners, and the cause,
    And fight for your King Valdadore!”
     
     
    The song was of the like that none of the boys had ever heard its equal, and the entire room sat enthralled hanging on every word the old man sang.  Even the drunkards at the bar had quieted their clamorous jests to listen to the old codger’s song.  Finally, when the man’s song came to an end many a man in the room lifted his mug and shouted "Long Live Valdadore!"
    The old man scrutinized the small crowd, most of them still sat with their jaws still agape.  It seemed to him his words had the effect he intended, and so with effortless grace he launched his body down from the bar and strolled straight across the room and out the door.
    A few moments had passed since the old story teller had departed.  Most of the people within the inn looked from one another in astonished glances, not feeling the warning the grave tale had told them.  People started talking again in hushed voices at first repeating parts of the tale.  The large room grew louder and louder as the twins and Ashton looked across the table at one another knowing all too sure that if the tale were true, The Choosing would be much more uncomfortable than anticipated.  The boys still sat facing the bar, oblivious to their surroundings, discussing the old man’s tale when a loud thud followed by a bone shattering crack