Part 3

Far to north in Baralae
as winter's breath drew warm
the artificer came of age
and father's day of ruin and rage
could but stoke a brewing storm

Stole away in hurried rush
her devices - wonders to be seen
smart lightning and endless smoke
fire from ice and bottomless poke
Talent to make a blade true keen

Neala and the dark girl
willed away the veil
Passed through Malda's gate
beyond the reach of hate
delivered on to Goric's wail

The southern islands cascade
washed from the blood of Chiron's pride
In ritual loosed a holy girl
to boat and storm snd seas awhirl
Broken sail committed to tide

On Arador's swept reach
the craft landed and birthed one
Pale Sela, alone, met the Clear
and for the first, knew fear
and was taken before the son

Goric, so named the Whiteblade
and rose in deeds deemed foul
Cut a swath through time
and plucked out Darthur's rhyme
mortality in painful howl

The western land saw Aaron rise
many saw the steel in his stare
Sons grew strong in the ways
years passed in just days
The omen coming in stillborn air


Copyright: Brian Pellerino 2006