The red sun rose like an early warning,
Bathing Vrokur Tul in bloody light.
The hammer of the smiths became the mourning
Of the beating war drums in their blight.
The armies marched with banners flying.
The swords weighed heavily on their hips.
On the mountains sang the warhorns crying,
Keeping the unspoken whispers on their lips.
Beneath the grasses the dead laid waiting,
With teeth and dirt upon their tongues.
Above the earth the soldiers stood hating
The oily smoke that burned their lungs.
The trebuchet rushed and the wind gave chasing
The boulders that were launched over walls aflame.
And the soldiers charged with locked shields bracing
Against sinister archers with wicked aim.
Down went the struck horses in death screaming,
And up went the knights upon their backs.
Beneath the red sun their swords were gleaming
The colors of crimson and blood-clot black.
Then through the brush the hounds came howling,
Snapping and tearing at soldier's legs
One went down and another fell yowling.
The dogs feasted upon the dregs.
The siege towers came like thunder rolling;
The battering rams like lightning struck.
The cats and weasels came next, bowling
The castle walls that held no luck.
The castle fell and the army took fleeing,
And the rivaling army gave into a chase.
Over the dead they fled unseeing,
Blinded by grief and the dying wastes.
Caer Vrokur Tul survived the fighting,
Though wounded were her great stone halls.
The soldiers that stood embraced, crying,
For what they had done to her sacred walls.
The castle still stood in glory shining,
Her throne still tall for all to see.
That was where king took to resigning
And to the apostate he gave his keep.
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the Dark Caves
خيال (فانتازيا)Come 'round, night's edge draws ever near Gray twilight gathers dark and drear. The air grows brittle, howling, and cold, So heed these tales arcane and old. From beneath the mountains, where magic thrives; From burrows dark, heartless, and dry; Fro...
