Deliverance
...for the land knew that all hope had been defeated,
And men would perish in arms, scars of devastation
Would devour the land like common carrion flesh.
Black hours, tainted lives, touched like never before
By a faith more hated than feared; and still the domain
Waited for the night to claim it, weak, dying. Glorious
Histories flickered across pages of futility. So many wars,
Numerous promises, glowing hope: all blotted to dust
In a cursed glint of time...
But pause, and listen! O'er the ashes of the past, rests
A footstep, and a broadsword. Mortal the footstep may be,
Mere steel may hath wrought the sword, but lies
Within, a beating heart of light, gleaming forth quiet
Strength, of capacities higher, and humility lower...
Hush…there goes the warrior, his heart knows, his mind doubts.
Let it; for now, let him sleep. Should he rise, the Sifaer will too.
And let him not journey alone, give him
A wizard, a mage, a steed,
And all hope you may conjure...
- from 'Rhymes beyond Keopthia'