Black Magic
Every year companions choose, as they have done before
The chosen come, with shining hearts to learn the heralds’ lore.
Every year the heralds sigh and give the same advice,
Of those who would wield magic’s power, must then pay magic’s price.
Oh, there was danger in the North, that’s all that Vanyo knew,
An enemy of power dark, sought heralds up and slew.
But only those with magic’s gift were slain by silent rage,
‘Til Vanyo of them all was left, the only herald mage.
Yes from the North the danger came, beyond the forest hall,
The forest did not stain of death, nor did the mountains far.
And Vanyo cried, “We die, my liege, and know not why nor when,
So send me off my king that I may find the answers there.”
Then north went Vanyo, not alone, it was of little late,
A bard was life to be to him, and Stefan was afraid.
He feared that he would fail the quest, a burden prove to be,
Dared not let Vanyo go alone to face dark sorcery.
So up beyond the border there, beyond the forest hall,
Into the mountains, deep they went, and [there stood an icy wall].
To find the way cracked and burned, there was a passage new,
A path, clean cut and level ran a winding course, and true.
This path was wrought by witchcraft, Vanyo knew that when he saw,
The mountains hewn by power dark, and there stood an icy wall.
But to what purpose something moved beyond them on the trail.
They watched, and hid, and what they found there turned them cold and pale.
An army moved in single file by magic cloak and hid
An army moved on Valdemar, that marched as they were bid.
A darker force than weaponry controlled the men in place,
Oh, Vanyo looked, and Vanyo knew of ancient evils faced.
Then Vanyo turned to Stefan and he told the bard to ride,
To warn the folk of Valdemar. “They call me magic’s pride.
It’s time I earned that name, now go, I’ll hold this army back.
Until the arms of Valdemar can counter their attack.”
So Stefan rode, and so it is, no living tongue can tell
How Vanyo fought, nor what he wrought, nor how the herald fell.
The army came, but not in time to save the herald mage,
Although the paths were scorched and cracked by magic power’s rage.
They fought the dark ones back although they came on wave by wave.
No trace they found of Vanyo nor of his companion brave.
They hardly found to focus on the gift of Stefan’s hand,
Now blackened, burned, and shattered by the power that saved their land.
They only found the fallen who into the woods had fled,
And each one by unseen, uncanny powers now lay dead.
As if the forest had somehow restored itself that day,
And Vanyo with his dying breath commanded trees to slay.
And still the forest of the north guards Valdemar from harm,
For Vanyo’s dying curse is stronger far than mortal arm.
And every year the chosen come despite the old advice,
Of those who would be magic’s pride, must then pay magic’s price.
