III.

Born on an altar of frigid stone

far from the halls of a royal home

at the mouth of roaring Terriand

where waters meet; river, sea, and sand

where the currents churn the sea foam green

and sea birds cry but are never seen

whirling high in zephyrs bold, they rise

to soar above sallow, fog-laced skies.

Here encamped beside the rushing waves

sits the hero of the ‘Thousand Days’.

Here the champion has tarried long

far from the cheers of adoring throng

farther still from love of kith and kin

long since there were battles yet to win.

Palomar Feri was his name of old

when fortune favored warriors bold.

Long have been the nights since elder days

longer still since triumph the banners raised.

Dark have been the troubled thoughts of men

and darker still have been deeds since then.

Here, he alone the dire watches keeps

while in the black, lonely hours weeps

for the glories of Lord Antrop’s hall

before shadow cast its ghastly pall.

Oh! The riches of such splendid feasts

where larders bulged with riches replete.

There sang the bards the songs of old

and children were awed at tales retold.

But here upon the forsaken beach

where wood and bone lie forever bleached

by that vengeful, unrelenting sun

there stood alone the oft-herald’d one

and at his feet lay Turcien bound

that beast of such monstrous renown.

Even in death was its fury seen

Though his eye now stared with glassy sheen.

Roughhewn flesh caked each tremendous paw

and still venom dripped from gaping maw.

For years untold the most craven spawn

did with spite and malice prey upon

the hearts and fears of all Eastenwell

with such grievous threats and deeds most fell.

From the falls of River Errantry

to the pale shores of the Endless Sea

the shadow of the villain grew long

til no maid alone should dare a song

for fear her dreams would with howling fill.

Though in recent years so few could tell

of a time when Turcien was seen

or mark the place he had truly been.

Perhaps, they mused, he had simply fled

and in some lithesome hovel to bed.

So his horrid legend slept, but grew

til all men had passed and time renewed.

All but Palomar who did endure

bound to his heroic fate and moored,

suffering silent indignity

as men forsook bonds of loyalty

and fled, in turn, each man to pride.

Then the hero sought again a prize

worthy of forsaken memories

---a tale to echo beyond the seas.

So early one spring morning he crept

beyond the gates where the drunkards slept

and found himself on familiar roads

though forgotten now and overgrown

ever southward under Dormane’s leaves

sleeping beneath its shimmering eaves,

following the foothills of Lorment

slightly east, the rugged trail there met

the headwaters of sylvan Ennule

where moonlight danced ‘cross her silver pools.

Yet ever he found the stain of men

men who lost still more honor since when

he had left, now dwelt in shadow it seemed

and faded along with deferred dreams.

So he was led yet farther afield

by a spirit that would not yield

seeking for himself a nobler end

and to revive flagging hearts of men.

Still the call of glory pressed him on

til the lands of his youth were far gone,

where foreign tongues bespoke foreign shores

into this scene the Terriand poured.

Wandered he over emerald glen

beyond the curve of the river bend

til a thrilling rumor reached his ears,

a dark rumor of some latent fear.

Of mighty Turcien it was said

he had to this fertile land been led

and did besiege, fostering alarm.

At this Palomar sprung up to arms

and set out at once to slay the fiend

seeking a sign of where he had been.

Pursuing for years specter and shade

Rushing headlong from glade to glade.

Relentlessly he sought out the beast

whose reign of terror seemed to have ceased

for peace had fallen in spite of fright

much to the dismay of the questing knight.

Still with fervor did the champion

assail with such reckless abandon.

Til on that fated high summer’s day

Palomar heard the hound loudly bray

and for the hilt of his sword he did reach

charging forth onto that forsaken beach.

There upon the sand Turcien lay

(though what he perceived no may could say)

in such a state of aged repose

its eyes bleary from a morning doze.

It rose with great labor to its feet

the encroaching champion to meet.

There the titanic battle occurred

though time and motion seemed strangely blurred.

The beast then rose up to meet the man

who fought with fury in his cold hands.

Though dulled by age the hound savagely

swiped massive claws belying infirmity.

Fresh blood it drew from the hero’s flesh

while singing sword hew a gaping cleft.

The air boiled with hatred’s vicious heat

as the monsters mercilessly beat

and landed such cruel rending blows

though locked they were as in lover’s throes.

Palomar felt the cur’s limbs quiv’ring

though in its heart vengeance simmering.

Its breathing slowed and its strength was stayed

as good vitality’s years betrayed.

Its noble muzzle dipped and light fled

from its ancient eyes and timeless dread

passed away. The knight drew now his sword

and looked the ever-conquering lord,

and into its breast did plunge the blade.

Uttering a mighty sigh it laid

down, its struggle lost, to rise no more.

Thus pass baleful wolf on dismal shore.

Then upon the day fell weary calm

as if some languishing spirit’s song

had swift and suddenly come upon

the now nigh-exhausted champion.

A silent spell cast by solemn breeze

did his melancholy spirit seize.

Where joy should flourish, only regret

only tears for years and dreams misspent.

No stories penned nor ballads were sung

Though before his feet the beast was slung.

What strength took it? What fortitude

to slay a beast in decrepitude?

Now the gathering wind grew quite loud

as the cur’s poison his flesh befouled.

He knelt down before his vanquished foe

grotesque castles grew where blood was sowed.

Its listless eyes mirrored his deep grief

as time stole in upon as a thief.

Distantly, he heard, as on the wind

the adoring throng he sought to win

the voices of crowds so long ago

lost friends and lovers he had once known.

Then, like a wisp; like a passing mist

gone were the dreams of a lasting bliss,

only then as sickness veiled his eyes

did he see great Turcien beside

and in his defeated presence found

a monster to whom his fate was bound.

Wind-whipped salt spray stung his distant eyes

as whitecaps rode the incoming tide.

Ever stretched the undulating sea

as velvet sunset loomed plaintively.

Fiery orange and lavender hues

did the fading summer's eve imbue

and from the deep gibbous moon arose

to claim vanishing sky unopposed.

Parched lips uttered silent prayer as day

fell behind the greedy, violet shade

and now eternity's lot was cast

beyond the veil the two monsters passed.