Tuesday, November 1, 2016

The Wraith Queen, Part One

'Midst the ashes of an Empyre, where smolder'd no more
The fyre of the Roeles, quench'd by red Tydes of war
No corner of the Realme, no family untouched by Woe
Yet in the Gorge, ever tall and green the Yewes grow.

On a great Steed the hue of moonless eventyde
'Cross the plains of the Cradle did a Warrior ryde
Once proud back hunch'd, Visage traced with scars unheal'd
And a bandage-swath'd stump where hand once held Shielde.

Marella Fulcairn, second chylde to Baroness Mhaeril,
Returned home from the blood-drench'd Battle of Hollow Hill,
Fought 'neath Boeruine's banner, till an Avanish blade
Took her hand, and of a fierce Warrior a Cripple made.

With all Haste she rode; her Heart long'd to Beholde
The Autumn Woods decked all in Crimson and Golde
And her elder brother Mheren, young Heir and Lorde
And in all of Cerilia, her most Adored.

For Mhaeril's second Chylde was as dark as bright was her First,
Grim of disposition, and oft rumour'd Accursed,
A bastard, the whispers in Tavernes would say,
The get of Baroness Mhaeril and a wand'ring Awnshegh.

To the gates of the wood Keep, Marella swift rode,
To see black Banners strung on the Fulcairns' abode.
The old Seneschal greeted her, eyes filled with payne,
"Lady, by Rhuobhe's horde are your mam and brother slayne."

To her knees fell Marella; she cried out, aghast,
"I'm not meant to be Baron, just a crippled Outcaste,
"Take my life, Haelyn, smite me with your divine Blayde!
"But return my dear brother; lo, I offer this Trayde!"

But Haelyn did not answer, so Marella broke
An Oath made to her mother; in Chyldehood she'd spoke
Ne'er to use the blood-gifts of Azrai, long Concealed
Lest her true Parentage be then thusly Revealed.

In her rage and her sorrow, she summoned the Blood
Through her Veines it did roar, in a vile, corrupt Flood
From the stump of her Arm, a horror all present saw--
Grew a Demon-Hand, night-black in Scale and in Clawe.

"I'm ill-suited to rule us," Marella proclaymed,
"So my gift to the Wilders shall be Blood and Payne.
"I'll Behead every Elfe whose footsteps foul our Home
"And I'll pile up their heads at the foot of Rhuobhe's Throne."

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