Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  And like the books I sit alone, a relic no one needs.

  I grow too old, I grow too old, my aching bones have made me lame

  And if my futile dream came true, I could not live it now.

  The time is past, long past, when I could ride the wings of fleeting fame

  The dream is dead beneath the dust, as 'neath the dust I bow.

  So, unregarded and alone I tend these fragments of the past

  Poor fool who bartered life and soul on dreams and useless lore.

  And as I watch despair and bitterness enclose my heart at last

  Within my soul's dark night I cry out, "Is there nothing more?"

  LIZARD DREAMS

  (Kethry: Oathbound)

  Most folk avoid the Pelagir Hills, where ancient wars and battles

  Were fought with magic, not with steel, for land and gold and chattels.

  Most folk avoid the forest dark for magics still surround it

  And change the creatures living there and all that dwell around it.

  Within a tree upon a hill that glowed at night with magic

  There lived a lizard named Gervase whose life was rather tragic.

  His heart was brave, his mind was wise. He longed to be a wizard.

  But who would ever think to teach their magic to a lizard?

  So poor Gervase would sit and dream, or sigh as sadly rueing

  That fate kept him forever barred from good he could be doing.

  That he had wit and mind and will it cannot be debated

  He also had the kindest heart that ever gods created.

  One day as Gervase sighed and dreamed all in the forest sunning

  He heard a noise of horse and hound and sounds of two feet running.

  A human stumbled to his glade, a human worn and weary

  Dressed in a shredded wizard's robe, his eyes past hope and dreary.

  The magic of his birthplace gave Gervase the gift of speaking.

  He hesitated not at all—ran to the wizard, squeaking,

  "Hide human, hide! Hide in my tree!" he danced and pointed madly.

  The wizard stared, the wizard gasped, then hid himself right gladly.

  Gervase at once lay in the sun until the hunt came by him

  Then like a simple lizard now he fled as they came nigh him.

  And glowered in the hollow tree and hissed when they came near him

  And bit a few dogs' noses so they'd yelp and leap and fear him.

  "Thrice damn that wizard!" snarled his foe. "He's slipped our hunters neatly.

  The hounds have surely been misled. They've lost the trail completely."

  He whipped the the dogs off of the tree and sent them homeward running

  And never once suspected it was all Gervase's cunning.

  The wizard out of hiding crept. "Thrice blessing I accord you!

  And is there somehow any way I can at all reward you?"

  "I want to be a man like you!" Gervase replied unthinking.

  "A wizard—or a man?" replied the mage who stared, unblinking.

  "For I can only grant you one, the form of man, or power.

  What will you choose? Choose wisely, I must leave within the hour."

  Gervase in silence sat and thought, his mind in turmoil churning.

  And first the one choice thinking on, then to the other turning.

  Yes, he could have the power he craved, the magic of a wizard

  But who'd believe that power lived inside a lowly lizard?

  Or he could have the form of man, but what could he do in it?

  And all the good he craved to do—how then could he begin it?

  Within the Councils of the Wise there sits a welcome stranger

  His word is sought by high and low if there is need or danger.

  He gives his aid to all who ask, who need one to defend them

  And every helpless creature knows he lives but to befriend them.

  And though his form is very strange compared to those beside him

  The mages care not for the form, but for the mind inside him.

  For though he's small, and brightly scaled, they do not see a lizard.

  He's called by all, both great and small, "Gervase, the Noble Wizard."

  He's known by all, both great and small, Gervase the Lizard Wizard!

  LOVERS UNTRUE

  (Tarma: "Swordsworn")

  "I shall love you till I die!"

  Talasar and Dera cry.

  He swears "On my life I vow

  Only death could part us now!"

  She says "You are life and breath

  Nothing severs us but Death!"

  Lightly taken, lightly spoke,

  Easy vows are easy broke.

  "Come and ride awhile with me,"

  Talasar says to Varee,

  "Look, the moon is rising high,

  Countless stars bestrew the sky.

  Come, or all the hours are flown

  It's no night to lie alone."

  This the one who lately cried

  That he'd love until he died.

  "Kevin, do you think me fair?"

  Dera smiles, shakes back her hair.

  "I have long admired you—

  Come, the night is young and new

  And the wind is growing cold—

  I would see if you are bold—"

  Is this she who vowed till death

  Talasar was life and breath?

  Comes the dawn—beneath a tree

  Talasar lies with Varee.

  But look—who should now draw near

  Dera and her Kevin-dear

  He sees her—and she sees him—

  Oh confusion! Silence grim!

  Till he sighs, and shakes his head—(pregnant pause)

  "Well, I guess we must be dead!"

  THE LESLAC VERSION

  (Leslac and Tarma)

  Leslac: The warrior and the sorceress rode into Viden-town

  For they had heard of evil there and meant to bring it down

  An overlord with iron hand who ruled his folk with fear—

  Tarma: Bartender, shut that minstrel up and bring another beer.

  L: The warrior and the sorceress went searching high and low

  T: That isn't true, I tell you, and I think that I should know!

  L: They meant to find the tyrant who'd betrayed his people's trust

  And bring the monster's power and pride to tumble in the dust.

  L: They searched through all the town to find and bring him to defeat.

  T: Like Hell! What we were looking for was wine and bread and meat!

  L: They found him in the tavern and they challenged him to fight.

  T: We found him holding up the bar, drunk as a pig, that night.

  L: The tyrant laughed and mocked at them, with vile words and base.

  T: He tripped on WarrFs tail, then took exception to my face.

  L: The warrior was too wise for him; his blade clove only air!

  T: He swung, I ducked, he lunged—and then he tripped over a chair.

  L: With but a single blow the warrior brought him to his doom!

  T: About that time he turned around—I got him with a broom.

  L: And in a breath the deed was done! The tyrant-lord lay dead!

  T: I didn't mean for him to hit the fire iron with his head!

  L: The wife that he had kept shut up they freed and set on high

  And Viden-town beneath her hand contentedly did lie.

  T: I went to find his next-of-kin and to the girl confess—

  "Your husband wasn't much before, but now he's rather less—"

  T: "He was a drunken sot, and I'll be better off," she said.

  "And while I can't admit it, I'm not sorry that he's dead.

  So here's a little something—but you'd best be on your way—

  I'll claim it was an accident if you'll just leave today."

  L: In triumph out of Viden-town the partners rode again

  To find
another tyrant and to clean him from his den—

  The scourge of evil and the answer to a desperate prayer!"

  T: Don't you believe a word of it—I know, 'cause I was there!

  WIND'S FOUR QUARTERS

  (Tarma: "Swordsworn")

  CH: Wind's four quarters, air and fire

  Earth and water, hear my desire

  Grant my plea who stands alone—

  Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone.

  Eastern wind blow clear, blow clean,

  Cleanse my body of its pain,

  Cleanse my mind of what I've seen,

  Cleanse my honor of its stain.

  Maid whose love has never ceased

  Bring me healing from the East.

  Southern wind blow hot, blow hard,

  Fan my courage to a flame,

  Southern wind be guide and guard,

  Add your bravery to my name.

  Let my will and yours be twinned,

  Warrior of the Southern wind.

  Western wind, stark, blow strong,

  Grant me arm and mind of steel

  On a road both hard and long.

  Mother, hear me where I kneel.

  Let no weakness on my quest

  Hinder me, wind of the West.

  Northern wind blow cruel, blow cold,

  Sheathe my aching heart in ice,

  Armor 'round my soul enfold.

  Crone I need not call you twice.

  To my foes bring the cold of death!

  Chill me. North wind's frozen breath.

  THE SWORDLADY, OR: THAT SONG"

  (Leslac)

  Swordlady, valiant, no matter the foe,

  Into the battle you fearlessly go—

  Boldly you ride out beyond map and chart—

  Why are you frightened to open your heart?

  Swordlady, lady of consummate skill,

  Lady of prowess, of strength and of will,

  Swordlady, lady of cold ice and steel,

  Why will you never admit that you feel?

  Swordlady, mistress of all arts of war,

  Wise in the ways of all strategic lore,

  You fear no creature below or above,

  Why do you shrink from the soft touch of love?

  Swordlady, brave to endure wounds and pain,

  Plunging through lightning, through thunder and rain,

  Flinching from nothing, so high is your pride,

  Why then pretend you hold nothing inside?

  Swordlady, somewhere within you is hid

  A creature of feeling that no vow can rid,

  A woman—a girl, with a heart soft and warm,

  No matter the brutal deeds that you perform.

  Swordlady, somewhere inside of you deep,

  Cowers the maiden that you think asleep,

  Frozen within you, in ice shrouded womb

  That you can only pretend is a tomb.

  Swordlady, all of the vows you have made

  Can never make your heart die as you've bade.

  Swordlady, after the winter comes spring;

  One day your heart will awaken and sing.

  Swordlady, one day there must come a man

  Who shall lift from you this self-imposed ban,

  Thawing the ice that's enshrouded your soul,

  On that day swordlady, you shall be whole.

  SHIN'A'IN WARSONG

  (The old tradition holds that the Shin'a'in—now forty-odd Clans in all—originally came from four: the Tale'sedrin (Children of the Hawk), the Liha'irden (Deer-sibs), the Vuysher'edras (Brothers of the Wolves), and the Pretera'sedrin (the Children of the Grasscats). Hence the monumental seriousness of the threat of declaring Tale'sedrin a dead Clan in Oathbound.)

  Gold the dawn-sun spreads his wings—

  Follow where the East-wind sings,

  Brothers, sisters, side by side,

  To defend our home we ride!

  Eyes of Hawks the borders see—

  Watchers, guard it carefully

  Let no stranger pass it by—

  Children of the Hawk, now fly!

  CH: Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone,

  Help us keep this land our own.

  Rover, Guardian, Hunter, Guide,

  With us now forever ride.

  Speed of deer, oh grant to these—

  Swift to warn of enemies,

  Fleeter far than any foe—

  Deer-child, to the border go!

  Cunning as the Wolf-pack now,

  To no overlord we bow!

  Lest some lord our freedom blight,

  Brothers of the Wolves, we fight!

  Brave, the great Cat guards his lair,

  Teeth to rend and claws to tear.

  Lead the battle, first to last,

  Children of the Cat, hold fast!

  Hawk and Cat, and Wolf and Deer,

  Keep the plains now safe from fear,

  Brothers, sisters, side by side,

  To defend our home, we ride!

  SHIN'A'IN SONG OF THE SEASONS

  (Although Tarma seldom mentioned the fact, her people have a four-aspected male deity to compliment the female. This song gives Him equal time with Her.)

  The East wind is calling, so come ride away,

  Come follow the Rover into the new day,

  Come follow the Maiden, the Dark Moon, with me,

  The new year's beginning, come ride out and see.

  Come follow the Rover out onto the plains,

  Come greet the new life under sweet, singing rains,

  Come follow the Maiden beneath vernal showers,

  For where her feet passed you will find fragrant flowers.

  The South wind, oh hear it, we ride to the call

  We follow the Guardian, the Lord of us all,

  We follow the Warrior, the strong to defend,

  The New Moon to fighters is ever a friend.

  With summer comes fighting, with summer, our foes;

  And how we must thwart them the Guardian knows.

  The Warrior will give them no path but retreat,

  The Warrior and Guardian will bring their defeat.

  Come follow the West wind, the wind of the fall,

  The Mother will cast her cloak over us all.

  Come follow the Hunter out onto the plain,

  Return to the Clan with the prey we have slain.

  For now comes the autumn, the time of the West,

  The season of Full Moon, of harvest, then rest.

  So take from Her hands all the fruits of the fields,

  And thank Him for all that the autumn-hunt yields.

  The North wind, the cold wind, the wind of the snow,

  Tells us, it is time winter pastures to go.

  The Guide knows the path, and the Crone shows us how—

  The Old Moon, and time for returning is now.

  And if, with the winter, should come the last breath,

  And riding, we ride out of life into death,

  The Wise One, the Old Moon, will ease our last load,

  The Guide will be waiting to show the new road.

  THREES

  (Leslac)

  Deep into the stony hills, miles from keep or hold

  A troupe of guards comes riding with a lady and her gold—

  Riding in the center shrouded in her cloak of fur,

  Companioned by a maiden and a toothless, aged cur.

  Three things see no end, a flower blighted ere it bloomed,

  A message that was wasted, and a journey that is doomed.

  One among the guardsmen has a shifting, restless eye,

  And as they ride he scans the hills that rise against the sky.

  He wears both sword and bracelet worth more than he can afford,

  And hidden in his baggage is a heavy, secret hoard.

  Of three things be wary, of a feather on a cat,

  The shepherd eating mutton and the guardsman that is fat.

  From ambush, bandits screaming charge the
packtrain and its prize,

  And all but four within the train are taken by surprise,

  And all but four are cut down as a woodsman fells a log,

  The guardsman, and the lady, and the maiden, and the dog,

  Three things know a secret—first, the lady in a dream,

  The dog that barks no warning and the maid who does not scream.

  Then off the lady pulls her cloak, in armor she is clad,

  Her sword is out and ready, and her eyes are fierce and glad.

  The maiden gestures briefly and the dog's a cur no more—

  A wolf, sword-maid and sorceress now face the bandit corps!

  Three things never anger or you will not live for long,

  A wolf with cubs, a man with power and a woman's sense of wrong.

  The bandits growl a challenge and the lady only grins,

  The sorceress bows mockingly, and then the fight begins!

  When it ends there are but four left standing from that horde

  The witch, the wolf, the traitor, and the woman with the sword!

  Three things never trust in, the maiden sworn as "pure,"

  The vows a king has given and the ambush that is "sure.

  They strip the traitor naked and they whip him on his way

  Into the barren hillsides like the folks he used to slay.

  They take a thorough vengeance for the women he cut down

  And then they mount their horses and they journey back to town.

  Three things trust and cherish well, the horse on which you ride,

  The beast that guards and watches and the sister at your side!

  --SS Oathblood (1998)--