Book 2: The Black Shores of Kisiyuka
The picture is entirely the work of the awesome
I love her work here, and hope she keeps on drawing, creating and otherwise doing work such as this!I
A lady there was in days of old,
More beauteous than gold,
Lustrous locks destined ne’er to fade,
Her voice echo’d in glen and glade,
Of seashells was her crown, dress scarlet,
Her maids pretty as a starlet
In the heavens high above,
The sunlight in their coronets was caught,
Where they abode in the lands south,
Of great seas and along shores,
In days long before ours,
To Ifriquya ventured her ancestors,
In the days after Narratsii’s last disasters,
Their hosts in might wert invited,
To lands by monsters blight’d,
Banners flutter’d and flap’d in the wind,
Swords uncount’d didst they bring,
Great in strength, and greater their trumpets’ blasts,
Bronze wert their trumpets lasts
Down through the centuries,
Uncount’d the times their enemies
Flew as bats from the suns’,
Such the might of their sons,
Through green jungles where beasts pranced,
Past winnowing trees Merialeth danced,
Many sea-waves crashing against the sward,
In her hair, wert many a glittering shard,
Of emerald, gold, silver and opal glitter,
Akin to moon and stars didst glimmer,
All wrought finely as by Elvish fingers
As by Dwarvish ones, that still lingers,
Truly, she was the most prized
Of her father, the King who had undisguised,
Fondness for her, best of all his gems,
O’er also all of his arms,
She who in beauty, surpassed all those still in life and death,
For she was Merialeth,
Such moving beauty, no more shall flower,
Hers was beauty that shone e’er bright, no matter the hour,
Ne’er again shalt there be a maid, who graces the south,
From this time, and to end times throughout,
Dress crimson as a freshly dug ruby,
Eyes dark as a starry-night, such her shawl’s beauty,
Sewn out from lilies, by seven fairies,
And of such loveliness most fair, it carries
Still much awe to men’s hearts,
Tresses dark as onyx, limbs swift as darts,
Slender as a willow tree,
Fragrance lovely as a lily,
Laughter fair as the sea,
Her song merry and free,
Such was her beauty,
Legendary was her loveliness and glory,
That all who saw it, knew bliss,
That the birds and rivers, of her still reminisce,
This in days of old,
When truth be told,
Krakens and Scyllas yet dominated,
The high-seas, that always o’erwhelm’d
All of Ifriquya’s coasts,
Many wert the losses of boats
Suffered by the Elves of old,
Who wert once so bold,
Then it was that they war’d,
Endlessly on land as at sea, so sayeth every bard,
These, the mighty Elf-kings didst o’ercome,
When still throughout the world they didst roam,
Great was the toil,
Of all those who might foil
Sloth itself, none moreso than their princess,
Who always, had more to hath spun,
So that her father’s halls,
Had deeds, and tales decorating his walls,
This she didst by her own hand,
That all throughout the land
Didst chant and sing, of their bond,
Both within his realm and beyond,
These she wove, and so strove,
Therein his grove, which was his home,
As daylight melt’d into night,
Endlessly across centuries, twilight
Inevitably encroach’d on their kingdom,
And found many a victim,
Though that time is not yet,
At that time, the King did not abet
So foul a thing, as his realm’s end,
For still many a legios they had to defend
Glittering hallways, and vast lands,
Banners extending with the aid of many hands,
All of whom, might long for all nine
Of his daughters’, and thus bind
Their fates to theirs,
Many wert the prayers,
To queens of love, that they might wed,
Any of the nine, and together thread
Their destinies, eldest among them,
Most generous, and was ne’er to condemn
Any, next after Merialeth, was Helath the Fair,
Third was Iliona of the pier,
Who bade her dear love goodbye,
And was always to sorrow and cry,
Fourthly was Teria Song-lover,
She who was most akin to her mother,
Fifth came Ayda the Archer,
She who was harsher
Than any other man, yet she most naïve,
Many feats she didst achieve,
Soliana the Sixth there was, the gentle
Sister ne’er resentful,
Seventh of his daughters,
Osonia be her name, she of high-morals,
Thessalannia was next,
She whom travel didst vex,
At last Vaereth the Emerald,
So very often imperilled,
Of green stones, she loved most,
E’er for more, she didst strive and hoped,
Greed and hubris she wore,
That the hearts of men apart she tore,
Much to her father’s embarrassment,
Who always reprimand’d her o’er her arrogant
Comportment, that all might contrast
With noble Merialeth, ere contact
Was made, with the sons’ of men,
There near the Elves’ great den,
Dwelt they, and their tribe on enchant’d isle,
One of land most fertile,
Thereon hallow’d hills, Elvish-banners still held sway,
As among old jungles, and caves, all didst obey
Her father the King, who hard as stone,
And therein vast unmatch’d halls built his throne,
Mightiest of Shaldrar’s sons was this monarch,
So that all caves, were struck by hammer’s mark,
And properly fashion’d to his liking,
Ten thousand caverns, wert his people refashioning,
Ere his coronation, and ten thousand more follow’d,
Though war was to be had, none sorrow’d,
For few knew the secret of their cavern-palace,
So that there was balance,
Held up by the point of many thousand spears,
This and many more swords, guarded them for years,
Axes aplenty had they also,
Silver glimmering, and for more than show,
Many others gold glitter’d, their shields well-forged,
That they might keep their enemies ill-gorged,
Bucklers aplenty, all emblazoned well,
To represent a thousand houses that there didst dwell,
None of them in nature, at all fell,
Long ago, his wife he bid farewell,
Fair and beauteous, as a Nymph,
Though, she was neither wing-swept fairy nor Nymph,
She who was mother to eight,
And who was to his eldest dictate
Many a lessons and much affection
She who first mothered his child, of perfection
Most incomparable, for born
Was she in the world’s early morn,
Ere their arrival in distant Ifriquya the sea-swept,
Such the sorrow she left,
Shalvar was made ere their arrival, bereft,
Such the sorrow at her passing among the waves, he wept,
Many wert the centuries ere, he took to wife,
The lady Dialeth, who brought him once more to life,
She who doted on fair Merialeth, in her youth,
Dialeth his grief didst soothe,
Haeran was she named,
She alone could his spirit tamed,
Of Valyar’s line Haeran was,
Such was the nobility of this line, ‘twas
Said that he was King in his own right,
Ere Narratsyii’s twilight,
When the seas arose, thunder boomed,
And the end loom’d,
For the first Home,
Lo! They took fright to the east,
Storms didst abound, as the seas’ didst feast,
Upon many of those ships that set out whither,
Twelve score ships went south, half didst wither
Under the tempest’s wrath,
Whereupon many took an unexpect’d bath,
Among their numbers, wert Valyar and Haeran,
To the immense sorrow of her husband,
Long ago, long before men drew breath,
Ere they built anything of depth,
Didst Elves and Dwarves boast
Of the beauty of Merialeth throughout the coast,
She who was ship-born
Of matchless beauty, who didst adorn
Her tresses with Alstroemeria and rose
Such the statues built and placed in many a grove,
To her glory and beauty, throughout the length
And breadth of the land, that many sculptors grew in strength
And art, that she had a thousand admirers,
With a hundred Elves and Dwarf inquirers
Keen for her hand, that they might take her for wife,
To share all they had left in life,
Always though, Shalvar refused,
‘Nay, nay, none may have their lives suffused
With that of her own, none may claim
That which Haeran gifted me, such be my aim
As father and King,’
He didst say, so the bards do sing,
II
Far to the north and east, amid towering hills,
There arose in caverns onyx a throne of icy chills,
Amid desert lands, surround’d by ruinous flames,
That belched coiling columns of smoke that didst profane,
Land and man, that didst choke breathe of life,
As it didst all faith and hope, spreading death and strife,
Whether demon, or man, or Elf, there all knew grief,
So that life there was always brief,
There he ruled, a King most fell, and evil
Of all Marduk’s followers, he was most lethal,
Ancient and wicked, long there he had dwelt,
Mightier than any other, in effect,
Crueller in abysmal heart, than thought
Elves, and men, for he was ill-wrought,
By kingly Titan and fay he was begot,
And in shadows, wickedly taught,
Fashioned by kingly grace,
And birthed in that most debased
Of places, down below the earth,
There where his mother made her hearth,
Amidst cold stones, where ice gives way to fire,
Always was she quick to ire,
And quicker to vanity, ere she won his displeasure,
It was by this first poor act, one gains his measure,
His keep built thereon the site of his foul misdeed,
Built wholly in reverence of greed,
Of the ancient King he didst serve,
Ne’er once from wickedness he didst swerve,
On wings of flame, his swords and servants a bane
To all who revere chivalry and light,
For therein his keep, it is always night,
Rear’d and uprais’d to kingship
He thus held tight in his grip,
The sceptre pass’d to him,
By his father most grim,
He who ruled on Ouranos’s throne,
Made neither of water nor stone,
Thus didst unworthy father, pass to unworthy son,
Crown of iron and blood, neither of them won,
This ere, the long ago time when father
Gave way to kingly son, who didst thunder
Across heaven and earth, in terrible war,
That didst leave Namigoth bereft, as Zeus tore
Demonic father apart, and left little to demonic
Namigoth the Dark, who was left to dream diabolic
Dreams, down below in unearthly depths,
Where he was left bereft,
In brutality, as in acts of duality,
Didst he become known, as he was in actuality,
Benighted and prone to being delighted,
By the sorrow of others, especially when frightened,
Such was the nature of Namigoth, most dreadful
Of all the Titan’s spawn, such was the baleful
Nature that haunted him, that all Elves and men
Were despised by him, though he was beyond their ken,
Resentful of even his father’s former servants,
The dour half-god fervent
In his hatred, gave way always to furies
Most savage that buries
Reason, and morality, until none dared test his wrath,
Or question the path
Carved by he and those bent to his will,
They most devoted to giving over slaves to fill
Pits most dark,
They whom he engraved with his mark,
War he didst, with all across the sea,
They who dwelt in lands in days of yore
Establish’d by people most free,
Most of all he strove against Elves wise in lore,
And men prone to the sea,
These peoples, his servants didst explore
Land and waves, this he didst decree,
And this the vilest of men of yore,
Swear to undo, such their hatred of all free
Peoples, such the violence of their war
Against these peoples three,
III
South sail’d the high-mast
Ship of legend, that many men held fast,
That they didst journey on, along a sea vast
As a hundred savannahs, until at last,
They reach’d earthen shores,
To escape they threw all into their oars,
Harsh and cruel their attackers wert,
That they reduced their transport
Alone of all men,
Didst he seek a place beyond his ken,
O’er the waves and under, he swam,
Beaten and tossed about, as cruelly as a lamb,
Dark in hair and dark eyed,
South he went, there he sped,
Brought along by sea-borne wrath,
As by desperation, on oaken shaft,
Drag’d to and fro,
He didst inevitably flow,
After sea-borne battle’s travesty,
This be his great tragedy,
His people waylaid,
By Namigoth’s pirates of late
Memory, who hound’d the seas,
For any they might hew and disease
With ne’er ending strife,
Such was their life,
And such their hatred,
That they made war at sea their trade,
By storm, as by godly grace,
He came awash in light of day,
Cast from the sea’s embrace,
Thereon the sward, come what may,
Distraught and wearied, he thus didst face
She of infinite grace, she who cast away dismay,
Of madden’d weariness, lo! He made haste,
When stricken by beauty greater than any fay,
O’er jungle branch,
Past serpentine creatures they didst prance,
Past predatory beasts and prey,
This along the path align’d with stone and clay,
To distant sea-sward,
A great cry as they ran beyond
Jungle and beast, to where sea-spray
May be found in the light of day,
Thereby the waves, the silver-man
Didst proclaim, ‘Behold in distant land,
I behold the day and the stars,’
He proclaim’d as he caught her regard,
Arygros, be the name by which he was known,
By his people though he be now alone,
Fierce and the seas alone, he once loved,
Such his lowly blood,
That his request, Shalvar didst reject,
Though Merialeth to this dost object,
For by surf, as by land and sky,
She didst take to Argyros, and could not lie
That to him, she saw neither aimless wanderer,
Nor unworthy pleb, but warrior
And courage worthy of those who decorate
The stars, and the tapestries that all venerate,
IV
O’er the waves he came,
As a shadow he flew,
He of ill-fame,
Light as the tree’s dew,
Longing for she who lit a flame,
She didst his heart hew,
By Eros’ dart, thus filling him with shame,
O’er jungle trees, and trees of yew,
He beat his mighty wings, so that hither he came,
Fury in his heart, alongside passion, to view
The only lady he deemed a worthy dame
To the realm bequeathed to him, and to pursue
That which Shalvar didst proclaim
Most precious to him, and few
Ever saw, they didst exclaim,
Such be the dread as he didst pursue
She whom he wish’d to claim,
Lo! Didst Merialeth become lost,
To the very most diabolic of hosts,
He who banishes light,
As he might celebrate twilight,
On northward winds he flew,
Thither he went, to lands of different hue,
Raven-cloak he wore upon broad shoulders,
High over distant waters,
He carried the dusky princess,
Little knowing that his own distress
Might soon be near at hand,
Therein the lands
To the north of those that ring
The southern seas, where Shalvar is King,
This Shalvar took ill,
Many a warriors he didst will,
Many longed to wrench
From the King by bent
By sorrow, three took to the road,
The first swore to his brotherhood
He would take up eagle cloak and war
With Nalmoth far
Away in the skies,
The skies birds plies
As well might warriors ply steel,
The King’s heart he didst not heal,
Through wings and neck
The raven-shaped king didst wreck,
Thence went forth the archer,
A path thither he didst charter,
His dart didst fly, and didst fail,
Little it didst avail,
His second through claw and talon
It hew’d, and so fill’d with passion,
Hardly didst he last,
In heights he now didst surpass,
Ere the noble archer, fell
Down into the sea near where he dwelt,
Next came the stone-thrower,
Least of the three was this slinger,
Took flight he didst at a glance,
After his stone through air didst prance,
To the fury of Nalmoth the Black,
Who found pain he didst not thence lack.
V
Through the sky it hew’d,
Past storm-winds it was flown,
Along Ifriquyan winds,
Javelin forged by worthy guilds,
Brought hither by Dwarven cunning,
This ere the path he took to running,
That Argyros might follow after
The beast that its shape didst alter
That he might flap mighty wings
O’er the ocean, higher than might reach slings
Of mortal men, and mightier than they,
This was what served for Argyros’ prey,
Aid’d by the last of the trio,
Whom his boat didst all know
To be mightiest, and this he leant,
That Argyros might not be bent
And take unworthy flight,
The two united together ere the night,
In heroic pursuit,
Neither of them, Argyros’s passion didst dispute,
Dinvar the Leal, was this hero,
Who sought to prevent either from becoming widow,
Thus, brothers in arms and soul,
So that together their spears they threw, and the seas they rode,
His javelin silver lit
In the suns’ light was it,
Radiant it was, when it bit
Through wing bone,
Through he, whom few may condone,
Immense was the agony
Of Nalmoth, his savagery
Unsurpass’d in black rage,
So that he no longer appear’d a sage,
Down fell Merialeth, his cloak grip’d,
So that it was not long that she dip’d
Downwind towards sea and stones,
On wings that all knows
To be nigh broken,
Namloth flew, his prize stolen
And his wrath unmatch’d,
A mighty oath he swore,
As through the skies he tore,
Consumed by fright,
He took cowardly flight,
Such is the way of the diabolic,
In the face of virtue, and defiance to despotic
Wickedness, behold the might of love
Which may turn a vulture into a dove.
VI
By battle crown’d, by duel defeated,
Lo! Argyros a crown, and bride cheated
That most dreadful of beast,
Who might well for blade and blood reach,
Such is the nature of nobility of arms,
That men leave their farms,
That they may by virtue as by vigour,
Undertake heroic battle, and show their rigour,
For fair maid’s sake
And that their brothers may take
Comfort in deeds achieved,
And brotherhood received,
Lo! Argyros didst as expected,
Yet was hardly accepted,
Such be the pride of Shalvar, her father,
Little did it matter to either lover,
Such be the tenor of their song,
The passion of their bond,
Though hardly heedless,
For both knew him not to be needless,
Filial piety and goodness
Be natural to any bond’s hardiness,
War on the horizon,
Well might many say the prize won,
Neither Namloth, nor Shalvar forgotten,
Both declared Argyros’s victory ill-begotten,
Hardly downtrodden
For words uttered, may be the most common
Of all the world’s things, hardly frozen
By paternal coldness, their devotion
Unabated by paternal disdain,
That could not lead to their love’s erosion,
This though shadows wert hardly broken,
Yet is not love most beauteous, when woven
When night looms and grief leaves men trodden
And shatter’d, for ‘tis in this hour such an explosion
Of feeling and goodness dost most enlighten.