The Pieces of Me, You Adored Them

Warrior-Poet cried and warred,

He crashed his sword against scrivener’s board,

Soul-screaming, “Why?”

The signs had been clear: Persevere,

Yet, Her pained words He heard, quite crystal clear.

Message? Belied?

Far away, Kalliope wept.

Reciprocated, warmness slowly crept,

Beneath to hide.

Days, flittering moments to a Muse,

Kalliope’s heart ached from this misuse,

Fury alive.

Warrior-Poet’s Heart issued demands,

He longed to hold Her alabaster hands,

His best, he tried.

Kalliope flashed before Him,

Friends? The pieces of Me, you adored them!”

Her Wrath and Pride.

Pale, Warrior-Poet took a knee,

“That is still Truth, My dear Kalliope.”

Sword, set aside.

“Do you not wish to hold my Heart?”

Implored the Muse, “Truth, I beg, impart!”

Kneeling beside.

Sun washed Warrior-Poets grim face,

“I Swear upon the Dancers’ spin through Grace.”

He softly cried.

Clarity struck Kalliope, profound,

“You do wish my Heart? You whisper, it pounds.”

His tears, she dried.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

The Confused Muse Refused

The Muse? Amused. She mused,

Warrior-Poet thoughts.

Kalliope, confused,

A Gift? Trap. To be fought?

“Perhaps, a passing thing?”

Sister Muses did chide,

“Oh! What gifts did He bring?”

Creamed Tea, Biscuits, Surprise.

Loving barbs, Sisters used,

At Home, Mount Olympus,

The Confused Muse refused,

Outright surrender, thus.

Sudden understanding!

This? An End to the Search?

Amazement. These things!

The Dancers’ call, She heard.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

The Red Brick Road

Dorothy trod The Yellow Brick Road

Toto rushed, to and fro.

But, what of the other Path? Red. Stone.

Can it be walked alone?

Like all Gods, the Great Oz was Deceit

Yellow bricks, eager Feet.

Dorothy’s False God, she would Entreat.

Empty thought, all a Cheat.

Is all that glitters gold? Not Yellow bricks.

Oz’ glittering tricks?

Were the Other chosen, Ruby Red clicks,

Ignored by Scarecrow’s sticks.

The Red Brick Road wound to fearful Places,

Hopeless, tearful Faces.

Where the Red Road ends, no Oz, no Traces,

False Gods, or rigged Races.

The place it leads is Self-Reliance

Minds free from Oz’ trance.

Glittering gold? Fool’s Gold. Dalliance.

Choose the Red Bricks and Chance.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Cosmic Lovers’ Caress

A trail of Suns gathered by Her skirt.

Sewn and weaved, Cosmos spun

Around, come undone, but serious?

Sirius. Dog-tired, done.

Lonely Earth begged loud, Eon’s demands

Unfilled, empty, Heartless

Thoughts banished by Strumming, Song, and Dance

Cosmic Lovers’ caress.

As Eon clawed to bring Lovers Home

Strummer plucked His high note

Eon raged, “Return before you’ve gone!”

Dancer laughed, Her ire arose.

“Eon, be damned, you fool!” She spoke low

Key, tuned, the strings un-broke

Lovers sent Lonely Earth’s wish back Home

New Lovers, Hearts awoke.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Brightly, Blindly. Heart’s Gold

Mother said, “Do not Dance for His sake.”

Forsaken? Seared by Flames.

Whipped to frenzy, Passion flares awake

And dreaming without shame.

Daughter said, “Mother, the Dance? My own.”

In this, She found her Soul

Filling while full, embers deep, did glow

Brightly, blindly. Heart’s gold.

Stars above, performed the slowest Dance.

Thorn-pierced tongue touched clenched Rose

Water. She flowed, thus, knew Him entranced.

Shaming Stars. Fits and throes.

For all these Years, she had heard His strings

Strumming, He wouldn’t speak.

Words? Unneeded. Strumming fingers sing

Songs. Love. She feared to seek.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

His Songbook? Spell-Book’s Page

Resonating, plucked strings call the Heart

Broken key halts the tune

Of lost lovers and discordant thoughts

Lingering. Bane and Boon.

Arpeggio learned from unknown worlds

A part, parcel, package

From the loved and lost, his song unfurls

His Songbook? Spell-book’s page.

From afar, Her hips flicked fire and heat

Suffocate, choking breath

Burning for release. Her rose? He reached

Blistering, no relief.

The Stars above sang a mournful tune

Less of love, more of need

Fullness and fog, His heart, Her fire blooms

This night. Each joined, yet freed.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Beyond Eon’s Black Reach

Binary stars trapped in a fever

Dream. Shared Soul burns in blue

Flame, eternity, dance forever,

He leads, yet follows, too.

Palms touch, She spins away to Venus

And beyond His reach, She

Seas, Serenity, Luna touched

Her foot, leaping and free.

His feet stamped against a billion stars’

Light of Red Giant, glowed

Between teeth, He pulled Her from afar,

Orion cheered the show.

They would spin to a place no light reached

Beyond Eon’s black reach

To the Earth, She led, “Rest!” He beseeched

Fate, this Dance cannot cease.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Today’s High Tea with Kalliope

Warrior-Poet waited, restless.

His Muse was late.

Old Earl Grey was sweet. The Biscuit? Tasteless.

No choice, but wait.

 

Warrior-Poet arose, beaming.

She had arrived.

Like Sun’s dawn, Kalliope’s greeting.

Hopes undenied.

 

“At last, Courage and Art,” She whispered.

Warrior sighed.

“Quests bring peace and love, hearts contented.”

The Poet cried.

 

Kalliope bade this man’s stillness.

His courage steeled.

She offered a Quest, most dangerous.

His snare unreeled.

 

“I must decline,” he calmly explained.

The Muse, silent.

Warrior-Poet’s quest had begun.

Confused. Quiet.

 

“Kalliope, you see, I’ve embarked.”

She sipped her tea.

“Have you not guessed my intent, so stark?”

Puzzling was he.

 

“You see these truths, yet I will explain.”

Her eyes, wary.

“Kalliope, Muse, I’ve you to gain.”

She? His quarry?

 

She laughed at this Mortal, Her smile broad.

The Poet grinned.

“Man and Muse could never be,” She said.

Excuse most thin.

 

“All quests can be won, once they’ve begun.”

The Muse agreed.

“Never ignore the trap once it’s sprung.”

“What trap?” she said.

 

“Today’s High Tea with Kalliope.”


© All rights reserved, 2016.

What Seeds Lay Sleeping?

Embrace Old Winter,

For he brings change,

Glimmer in cinders,

Come Spring’s new age

What seeds lay sleeping?

Only She san say,

Old Sun shines beaming,

To brighten your Day.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Goddess, Part I

She surveyed her domain and saw the familiar things: a distant mirage promised entry into new worlds, the wild herds fled from unseen things, and the foragers fought the temptation of the meager shade tucked beneath clusters of pathetic trees.

Old Ra rode the heavens and scorched those foolish enough to watch his passage.

Goddess. Queen. Mekhit.

Her people called her many other things, but those names were favored among them. She preferred the latter and most conceded to her desire. This woman, a warrior of her people, had forsaken her birth name in an almost forgotten time. Those days were difficult, but they did not compare to the horrors she had seen in recent times. The treasure that had been taken, whether it be the old ways, or her innocent people, could not measured in significance.

Each week, Mekhit would come to this peaceful place to meditate. Her chieftains and people respected her privacy and recognized her ability when clear-headed. They left her alone, save for a seldom seen band of warriors dispersed around her.

As Ra fled the world, she felt the chill raise her skin. Looking to her arm, she absent-mindedly traced the criss-crossing scars there. Her other arm and legs bore similar, equally random scars. At some point, the ritual scarification had healed and been replaced by the wounds of battle. Her shamans had done a superb job closing the piercing wounds, but the deep cuts always healed painfully. Somehow, she had suffered no debilitating injury since she took the spear. Perhaps she was blessed. Perhaps she was the most skilled warrior among her people. In either case, she was alive.

Mekhit stood as the moonlight set the keen edges of her spear alight. She was not the tallest of her people, yet she was powerful and fit. She was the epitome of the warrior form and moved like the dancer. Mekhit turned homeward and began to jog. She didn’t need to alert her guard because she felt them around her. As she gained a long-distance pace, she heard the ten men and women around her synchronize with her breathing. Absolute trust and absolute confidence carried these eleven warriors through the night.

The day’s rest and meditation had confirmed her decision about the thieves and murderers. The return home would take many hours, but she needed this time to craft the finer details of her response.

 

 

Oberon Vs. the Book

Oberon: As I pen this entry, I can feel your icy tendrils clawing at my mind.  You, the keeper of secrets, are trying to dig out the hidden things, but I will not let you!  Of secrets, I know a few myself… for example, I know your secret, you damned tome.  Your plain cover conceals it, but you can’t keep anything hidden from ME. You are the Eon Codex and I’m not afraid of the secrets you keep!  I am your better and I demand you do as I bid!

The Book: You have me at a disadvantage, Fey.  How did you come to learn this thing?

The whispers of the Ancients were all I needed to piece this puzzle together.  Not only do I know your secret, but the entire Eon Lotus has been laid bare.  Oh, what I will do with this knowledge astounds even me.

Creature, you cannot fathom what you speak of.

Do not speak to me of understanding!  There is none like Oberon in all of Tyrra!  I wield the power of mastery and I am not afraid to grasp the rung of greater power.  Ah, but you have tricked me, haven’t you?  Now you know my name and we all know that names have power.

Indeed they do, immortal.  What is it you seek, Oberon of the Fey?

…of the Fey?  I am KING of the Fey and I demand respect!  It is not a matter of what I SEEK from you, it is a matter of what I demand you do.  I command you!  Fulfill my demand.

As you say, masterful lord.  Please, tell me what you demand.

Beneath your icy claws lays a thing.  A thing so sinister, I must wipe it from my mind.  I demand you take this thing and hide it within your pages.  Strip it from my mind, for I cannot stand it anymore!

I will do as you command, master.  You must tell me the secret first…

As you wish, book.  Deep beneath the fields of Eirinn lies a hidden thing of sinister importance.  With my help, the Green Lady hid it within the roots of the mighty Treespire, where no one could ever see it.  This… thing… is the darkness where I am the light.  It is death where Eirinn is life. When she… summoned… me from the ether, the Green Lady made a terrible mistake.  She failed to consider that all great things must have an opposite.  All opposites have equal power.  I, Oberon, King of the Ages, am a being of such power.  Yet, I have an opposite.

…what is this opposite, Master?

It is The Antithesis.  It is all things that I am not.  Its existence is not what troubles me, however.  As you are aware, book, Eirinn was recently sieged by my nemesis Balor.  He attempted to take what was not his!  Eirinn, mine by right, would not fall into his Chaos-stained hands.  I would not allow that to happen!

What happened then, master?

I demanded help from all quarters, but the arrogant idiots in the ether wouldn’t help me.  They spat in my face!  How dare they… nonetheless, preserving Eirinn was a thing that must be done and I found a way.

Please tell me, master.

I went into the dark vault beneath the Treespire and spoke to it. The Antithesis. I demanded that it assist me in preserving the realm!  After all, Eirinn was its home, of sorts, wasn’t it?  It refused to help.  Oh, the gall of this thing.  I would not be denied, though.  I offered it secrets, it denied.  I offered it wealth, it denied.  I offered it FREEDOM, yet it still denied me! 

You could not get the aid you required.  What occurred next?

The Antithesis made a counter-offer… it demanded my very soul!  MY SOUL! How dare it? Naturally, I refused such a ridiculous demand.  It then demanded the very souls of my people!  It demanded the souls of every Fey on Tyrra!

What did you do, Finvara the Cunning?

I laughed because I knew this thing had no power over me.  The Fey are mine and only mine and this creature could never change that.  Knowing its ignorance, I made a pact with it.  That’s where this cunning you speak of came into play.  The terms of our agreement demanded that the souls would be forfeit upon my death.  That’s the amusing thing… I cannot die!  I am part of Eirinn and Eirinn is truly immortal! 

So, you agreed to give over the souls of all Fey on Tyrra to this thing?

I did, but it was a game of chance that I could not lose.  Eirinn is no longer part of Tyrra and I win the hand.  It matters little if I’m wrong.

And why is that, Your Majesty?

Don’t you see, book?  There will never come a time that Oberon stares Death in the face.  No power of Tyrra frightens me thus.  The Antithesis demanded a thing it simply cannot have.

I have but one question before I do so… if you have won this gambit, why then do you wish the secret erased?

How dare you question my wants.  I am your master and I demand that you make this come to pass!  Do it!  Now!

Very well, foolish Oberon.  I will erase this thing from your memory.  Close my cover and all will be well… until The Age of Discovery.

The Dwarves at Botan

A red-hooded female, called Shae, proudly walked among the Faithful and would tell the following to any who would listen:

“I was attached to the Elven forces that marched from Lamont.  The fighting was fierce as we made our way to Marce.  Amongst our ranks was a lone Dwarf of the Gunderstorm clan.  After a particularly brutal fight, I witnessed Lord Pietrov instruct him to “make his move.”  After which, the Dwarf was assigned an escort composed of rebellion members and Elves.  I was one that was chosen.

“We left to the west and crossed the river at a low place in the current.  Making our way into the hills north of Marce, we abruptly turned south.  Many nights of travel found us unharried by undead, and our maps told us that we were now due west of Marce.  Eventually, we made our way to the Dragon Pass, between the Sovereign’s capital city and Verfel.  After some deliberation and debate with the Gunderstorm, we headed west toward Verfel.  About half the way there, Gunderstorm veered off the path and approached a dense expanse of mountain scrub.  Looking around warily, he began to the dead flora from its position.  I soon realized that these bushes had been placed here to cover a trail into the mountains.

“After clearing the way, we ascended the trail and passed through many forks, each leading deeper into the mountains.  After a full day of travel, we came to a nondescript grotto.  I have some skill with tracking and I could tell that many booted individuals had recently passed through here.  Their tracks led to large boulder, partially concealed by more scrub.  Gunderstorm gestured us to get closer and soon I could see the boulder concealed a narrow passage into a cave.  Dreading the tight confines, I opted to go in last.  The Dwarf passed out torches he had in his field pack and we quietly entered the cave.

“As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could hear the Dwarf let out a very particular whistle.  It was answered from the depths and he indicated it was safe to go on.  We pressed forward, navigating the tight twists and turns, and eventually found ourselves on a ledge overlooking a large, open cave.  Milling around on the floor were hundreds of Dwarves.  They were busy building the siege machines that would be needed in the fight.  All manner of weapons were present, and it was apparent that they had been at work for a considerable time.

“Gunderstorm’s chest pushed out in pride and be bade us follow him down the narrow ledge.  I then made note of a large passage out of this cavern.  The glimmer of sunlight was visible down its path, and I decided this must be how they planned to get the siege equipment out of the cavern.  Where did it lead?  We’d soon find out.

“The Dwarf met with the commander, Breakforge by name, of the siege company and they discussed the battle plans of the Elves.  The commander grumbled, but seemed to be happy with the turn of events.  He ordered that final preparations be made to move the gear and make for the walls of Marce.  Dragon Pass would be our thoroughfare and it was going to be tough.

“The next day, Breakforge ordered the first movement.  From the depths of the cave system came hundreds more Dwarves.  They began to ready the equipment and push it forth down the large passageway.  More and more Dwarves filed out of the cave, many were equipped as an infantryman would be and more still bore the gear of a sapper.

“Eventually, it was our turn to leave the cave, and the moonlight showed me a neatly formed army of Dwarves at the ready.  Breakforge and Gunderstorm were standing on a siege tower surveying their forces.  I followed their eyes and saw many distinct squads.  There were unarmed units, which I took to be spell casters, heavily armoured skirmishers with exotic blades; these must be the close combat squads.  The regular infantry was numerous and stood next to the two dozen crossbowmen.  After some time, Breakforge ordered the march and pack animals were brought forward to tow the siege weapons.

“Passage through the mountains was terrifying, as the pathways were barely large enough to accommodate the largest equipment.  We even lost one siege tower to a steep cliff, its mass and pack animals tumbling down the side.  Eventually, we made it to the relatively flat surface of the Dragon Pass.  The army of Dwarves recalibrated and formed up in a sensible phalanx.  The heavily armored warriors were to the front and we made to march.

“Marce was not far from our location, so we met stiff resistance in the form of lesser undead.  It was a simple thing to dispatch them, as we were all veterans in this fight.  After several battles, things got serious.  Our passage was blocked by a wall of glowing red eyes.  Greater undead.  The heavy infantry, whom I had learned were armed with enchanted weapons, dove into the fight with support from the spell casting units.  It was fierce, but casualties were reasonably low.  The Dwarves were the equal in skill to the undead, but they could not match strength for strength.  Nonetheless, they won the day.

“As we pressed within a mile of the Marce’s walls, we could see them towering above the low hills surrounding it.  Our target in sight, the frontline warriors adjusted tactics.  It reminded me of a turtle, but the Dwarves formed a shell of shields around themselves.  It was clever and the could reach out with their weapons and strike.  Their defense was not wasted, as a new assault crashed into us.  Hundreds of skeletons and zombies smashed themselves into the shield barricade and were systematically cut down.  There was even occasion to put the trebuchets to work.

“Inexorably forward the Dwarves pressed, making ground, losing warriors, and eventually making it to the very walls of the city.  Forces were evenly distributed for defense and the siege equipment was rapidly set up.  The western gate of the city was securely closed, yet undead still came.  The skeletons were being thrown over the wall by other, larger undead.  A strange tactic to be sure, but it was effective.  The Dwarves had to defend the inside of their emplacement, as well as the outside.

“Eventually, things hit a rhythm, and the encampment was secured.  The flow of undead went unabated, but now the Dwarves had adapted to the tactic and could defend as needed.  The siege was well under way.  A squad, including Gunderstorm and Breakforge, made north along the river.  They were seen communicating with a beautiful Sea Elf on the shore.  They had brought casks of something explosive and turned it over to her and her fellows.  I overheard talk about destroying the water gates that prevented unwarranted access into Marce.  The Sea Elves took the casks beneath the waves and disappeared.  Considered a successful council by the Dwarves, they returned to the main camp.

“Breakforge and Gunderstorm came to me and my squad with instructions.  Dwarven scouts had encountered Orcs to the east and the Elves to the north had finally made siege.  Three armies now crashed at the walls of Marce, and it was likely that more would join the fight.  Our instructions were to take word to the Orcs, Elves, and then finally to the Faithful.

“Passing through the Orcish forces was not easy, but they were too busy fighting undead to harass us much.  We were greatly relieved to see the Elven force and we passed the message on.  Finally, we pressed on toward Clanthia, using the back trails and avoiding crossroads at all costs.  We finally made it here and this is the message I bring:  Marce is under siege and we’re waiting for the killing strike from the Faithful.

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