Book One The day was bright when young Felic was born, Felic, the star of Ioras

faint pant, As fog flooded the day, the day was sworn To long foretell a wretched mans recant. The kingdom, Iora, a drier land, Dense forest separating it from more, A choice of sand or tree, twas nothing grand But lavish for the man upon day swore. Felic, the son of noble man and maid, Was chosen by the blaze of wretched ire, He grew til memory rooted to stay And then his eyes were painted new with fire. The fire, the fire, a lion in every way, A roaring mirrr of catastrophic storm, The blaze, alit with life as to a mane, Reared up, as boy a second time was born. Felic was in the foggy woods the morn The hills grew blazing red, but did he see? The child, whose name the day upon had sworn, Meandered through the thicket aimlessly. He turned his head with wistful thoughts too late And saw the blaze pull towards the wintergreen He turned from fangs of fire, ignored their spate But never could take back what he had seen. For as he turned his head before he ran, Felic saw marbled skin, a-pierced with spears Like toothpicks in a meal, a royal pan, The bearers walked along without a fear. The coldest face he recognized, a dame, A mother of some sort, or something close,

The warmest breast hed suckled without shame Was shriveled, pale, rendering him morose. As smoke took place of scorch, Felic ran home, But ash took place of home as he grew near, A man, with tattered cloak, had ceased to roam, And only then Felic saw what was queer. Behind his uncle, traveler of the globe, Stood nothing but a pillar built of ash The boy buried his face in Uncles robe And wept for thoughts now only of the past. The village, Cruzca, wiped clean off the map By wicked, fiendish Velci, what a realm, An empire set on owning every scrap Each strip of land, pure evil at its helm. The king of Velci, rather, emperor, Was known among Iora to be cruel To never hesitate to start a war Or feed his pitied men the cheapest gruel. Uncle Sland had said Cruzca was part Of Velcin empires worst foe, Iora, And so, in battle, Velci, in retort, Burnt Cruzcas people down, a plethora. And as Felic peered out from Slands old cloak The last thing that he saw brought tears to creeks For far beyond what cold waters could soak Lay Felics parents, sight not worth the peek. Sland gave word that he would have revenge; His sisters memory was not in vain, But young Felic had made up his mind thenHed find and share eternal life to gain. Uncle, Felic finally spoke out,

Ill never die, Ill find out how to live- Sland only said, laugh parallel to shout, Alright, if you can find it, Ill forgive! Felic did not yet understand vengeance For he had not quite understood the war, But all he knew was: death had not commenced For him, and it would never through him bore. Felic grew up with his dear uncle Sland, And with his uncle he would trust his life, But Uncle never ceased once in the span Of years to seek those out who caused him strife. Felic, at age eleven, had worked out That Sland was kind, but wrathful as a beast, So motivated was the youth about How one day he would set Uncle at peace. A quest for life! Hed seek outside the world Of Iora, or Velci, til hed find His immortality, re-shined and pearled And share it with the rest of humankind. So on that day he touched eleventh year He took a sack and filled it up with bread And boy set out without a single tear, Great thoughts a-storming wildly through his head. But then he heard a noise, and turned around, And once again the lion showed his face, The tongues of flame, oh what a dreadful sound, And coming from his Slands very own space. Felic rushed down, his reminiscence sharp, And cried out, Uncle! desperately loud, But Sland appeared with only match and tarp Both charred but still, their shapes were not to doubt.

Sland, Felic began, what have you done? You wanted to set out, but not aloneI cannot very well leave you to run, Now I must come with you, since Ive no home. Uncle and nephew merrily set off, Without a care of events yet to come, For Felic, still to young to not be soft, Could still agree that wandering was fun. Book Two Felic and Sland traveled atop their steeds, A grey and chestnut, careless with their stride; But as the weeks went on, the boy Felic Grew tired, and cared to cease his endless ride. His uncle looked and realized his breath Was short, for they had ridden near a month, And food- near all their bread in quest for stealth Had gone, and nothing grew, nor could they hunt. So Sland noted that though itd take a while There was a village far from there, but still, He knew a man whose work was just his style, And easily theyd live there, if they willed. Felic agreed, so Sland led him aside Atop their horses, over sandy plains, The desert, separating town from wild Had winds willing to torture without gain. Felic was unprepared for such a test; Not even cacti found refuge in here. The sun was harsh, and night was harsher yet But neither could afford to shed a tear. And water- water!- not a single drop Not underground or inside budding flower

It took only three days for them to stop And Felic could have died within an hour But prior to this hour a group of twoA lanky man on camelback, and dwarfShowed up, noticed the drained face of nephew And pointed uncle to the dreaded forest. The forest, known to every city man, Was filled with beast and plant eager for meat; Once had anyone fast enough ran To escape talons groping at their feet. Sland had stopped outside the wretched wood And gently took a leaf to Felics lipsThe morning dew dripped down, and the boy could Feel quivring energy at fingertips. We shall, Uncle declared, travel outside The forest, but we mustnt travel in. Felic saw moisture dripping down. But why? The forest, Sland explained, hates those whove sinned. Sin? Felic inquired, knowing the word, but not quite understanding what it meant: An act against the gods, so he had heardHis parents said, it had to be correctBut why, then, did his uncles face constrict When he was moral- he had never killed! Sin is more complex than a verdict, Sland paused, opened his mouth, but then grew still. Felic pondered. But shouldnt it be true That if you have done wrong, well, then youve sinned? It should, Sland sighed, but boy, you cant assume That wrong is wrong, he finished with a grin. So as they lived off dewy leaves, he thought

About what right and wrong, the two entailed For every time he theorized, Sland taught A situation where his theory failed. Felics horse didnt last, and after months Of traveling, she fell and could not rise. Felic, Sland shook his head, we cannot hunt, and your mare will only go to the flies. Felics eyes widened as he understood, But Uncle Sland, he cried, thats wrong, we cant just kill-! Shell die of heat and hunger, and her blood Will rot without a use- whatd be your will? So Sland took out his finest, bejeweled sword And put it in the hands of young Felic: Your choice is whether to ignore my words Or grant your mare inevitable sleep. The boy, tears streaming, raised the shining blade And looked away as he resolved, and dabbed. Felic! Sland roared, You owe that horse your gaze! He turned his eyes and met hers as he stabbed. Then Sland took back his sword and cut the horse And roasted it with his one final light They ate, then Sland took out again his sword. With great pleasure, I hope youll win your fight. His uncles eyes were twinkling, but this time They lacked the mocking tone theyd had before. Felics tears stopped, and off his hands wiped grime, And graciously, he took the shining sword. For two months more, Sland walked and Felic rode Upon the chestnut mount that still remained Still licking dewdrops off the wood abode And lasting off the meat of others game.

Ahead, Felic looked hard, and with a point, Asked, Uncle, whats that gold light over there? Its Jarze, Sland replied with utmost joy, And Jarzes where the land turns sweet from bare. Jarze, Felic repeated carefully. How long will we be staying? he inquired. Well, you can leave today or stay with me, But I for one wont start anymore fires. Felic just nodded, followed on the horse, And thought for but a moment as he looked At Sland, striding beside him- but of course Hed stay with Sland, from whom all Felic took. And at the end of three cold, restless moons Felic and Sland entered rich, warm Jarze And feasted, slept, and both knew no time soon Would either of them choose to end their stay. But as the nephew followed Uncle Sland He glanced over his shoulder passivelyHis eyes rested upon the forest grand Before he turned to city lights abeam. A kestrel, brown and almost merry, sailed And landed, talons sharp, upon Slands arm Alright, then, its decided- heres the mailIll start my work tomorrow, at the tarn, You see, the one right there? He pointed east, To rippling waters, branching verdant green, Ill keep watch from that lighthouse, he said, pleased, As Felic overlooked the cozy scene. A life without adventure- then again Felic had seen enough for a few years So for a while, he would have to pretend

He walked the desert, making sounds to hear. Book Three Again, as time flies by, so Felic grew, And grew quite handsome, dwarfing Uncle Sland, Reflecting with his eyes how much time flew, And confidence with straightness in his stand. He had a dark look spread throughout his gaze, And skin, once light, now tanned by desert trail Dark chestnut locks, eyes glinting with a blaze Yet barely brown oer black, theyd lost their pale. The five years lost or savored in the town Had made Felic mature like first-rate wine; Before, his mind was still unripe, but now At age sixteen, his head was more refined: Although at early age he lost his youth With tragedies far gone from his control A man of full command would grow uncouth Yet Felics burdens never took their toll. So lack of understanding may have been At eleven, a blessing in disguise, For as Felic now comprehended sin Instead of sour, like Sland, the boy grew wise. At age thirteen, Felic received a gift From Sland, a steed in place of that hed lost; But this was far beyond normal: a mix Of trunked beast of the wood and normal horse. The mix itself was built strong as an ox, Broad shoulders nearly fine to ride bareback, With ears and bushy tail like that of fox All tinted with the nights own favorite black. But most distinctive was the creatures trunk,

Passed down from parents from the forest grim; She gestured shortly, waved and rose and sunk With manner quick, and disposition prim. Felic had named his noble charger Cirth And though she got varieties of stares He cared nothing about her breed or birth For on her back, he could go anywhere. Cirth had few noises he could understand, But over triple years, hed learned a few: For hunger, tire or thirst, her blow was bland But when alert or joyed, the volume grew. His uncle, in the meanwhile, did his work Atop the mighty lighthouse, flashing white But through the days, despite his happy smirks, He was, inside, a man rooted on spite. His kestrel came, landed, and flew away Without a stop or night of brief repose Just like Slands fleeting thoughts of joy to staySo intricate until escape they chose. It came as no surprise, as these things do, That after years of peace, Velci attacked But startlingly, the Ioran king knew And sent his troops ahead at Jarzes back. Velci targeted Jarzes small defense Predicting easy wins if they used force, And surely so, they charged without a wince, But on the other side, they turned to corpse. Iora waited, not afraid or roused, And sent its troops straight through feeble Jarze: Catching Velci off guard, they wiped them out Indistinguishing townsfolk on the way.

For Sland had taken out his sharpest blade And sworn to wreak revenge right then and there And, as a storm, he spiraled and he slayed Three Velcins in a blow, without a care. Felic, meanwhile, was fending for himself Not far from Uncles wretched callous fight Yet with each blow, he wondered if Sland left His heart far from the war in the sunlight. The boy attacked a Velcin enemy With Slands old sword, bejeweled and gleaming harsh, But as he made his strike, he failed to see The second man aiming for Felics heart. At the last second, Felic changed his blow And blocked the lethal hit with all his might; His block withheld, but little could he know His sword could not deflect the formidable strike. And, with a bang and clatter, iron split, And sword lay in two pieces on the ground. Felic drew out his sheathe and took their hits, And clubbed them with a power yet newfound. Surprised, he raised the sheathe and drove away The last remaining Velcins as he saw Remaining soldiers by Iora slayed When, with a start, he heard a haunting callA scream of deadly pain, familiar tones That caused the boy to turn against his will And see the man who rescued him from home Have sword drawn from his chest and sheathed at hilt. He rushed to Uncles side, as blood dripped loose Without a thought to soldier walking free He ripped his cloak and wrapped the mortal wound

As Sland but shook his head and said, weakly: Revenge was worthless, only now I see That neither side, Felic, was ever right; For as I fought to keep the city free, Our own Iorans stabbed me in the fight. I fear my end is coming quickly yet So I will pass to you what you shall need. To cross the forest, one must fear not threat From wood alone- no fear and youll succeed. Felic raised Sland upward and murmured low, Dont speak, youll waste the little life youve left- I see the hardships that you will forego But have no fear: youre strong as you are deft Just listen- neither side will ever win For neither side has hope for uprightness Until they hear the woods judgment on sin- Then silently, no more could move his chest. Felic stood up and threw his cloak oer Sland And whistled, and came running did his steed He mounted, looked with grief over the land Whose waters looked as though by sun theyd bleed. The land is dead, he thought, and then he fled The woods evergreen limbs hanging in mind, Looked back not once to Jarzes waters red For now he only yearned to see the pines. Book the Fourth Felic spotted the border to the wood But right in front stood Velcin soldiers twin He gave a holler, doubtful if he should; Attack was certain, but he knew hed win. He drew the spear hed sharpened on the way

A simple point of wood, quite thin but stiff And readied it, but not ready to slay Was he, striking a pose of hieroglyphs For as he raised his spear, he waited, weak, And barely dodged their glaring swords in flight He straightened, felt inside a boiling pique And turned from timid man to barebacked knight. He thrust the spear straight through the armored sire Atop a gallant horse unlike his own And watched the chain catastrophes transpire Inside the man as his eyes died with a moan. The bloodied spear, stuck through cracks in the build Was drawn by wretched hand and reared to throw; The other man ran far, not to be killed, And left his fellow man as food for crows. Felic leaned down, and with a solid arm Lifted the man and carried him across Until he reached the forest, dropped, and harm Would come no more to man now cloaked by moss. The boy- young man- guided his steed onward To touch the edge of dreaded forest yond He nudged Cirth, and she tread with accord Through thicket green and gentle fronds. Uncle was wrong, Felic thought anxiously, Else Cirth and I would alreadyve been killed! Yet still doubt kept alive persistently And boy so strong began to lose his will. Judgment on sin? What if the forest hates The man who kills? he thought with churning gut. Perhaps it only bides its time to wait Until tonight, then whip its vines to cut?

Alas, Felic, he doubted every word, Each thought he had so surely known before: What if I lived when it wanted to burn Me in its flames? he thought, Have I sinned not to char? And then he saw the roots rear up to snatch But already Felic had lost his hope So sin takes me? Ive finlly met my match, He said, not even grasping vines to grope He watched Cirth leap away, and belted, Run! As he felt tendrils pull him underground But as his eyes were closed off from the sun He felt hands fight to pull him as he drowned Dirt pushing in like sea in churning storm But ho! his life was in anothers hands And as darkness closed in, he felt them, warm, As he succumbed to illusory sand. He only felt once during the voyage, The smooth black back of his dear, loyal Cirth, And smelled woman that filled his pained ribcage As he sank back to slumber of the earth. It took short time for Felic to awake Aroused by sounds hed heard not for years five, And as he struggled up, a breath to take The lack of luster changed his tainted eyes. A simple camp, with trembling tents set up No crops or mills, a jug or two around, He reached and drank from another clay cup And as he turned, he marked wonders newfoundA herd of steeds just like his noble Cirth, But odder still, with longer trunks and legsA set of six, so fine and far from earth!

Oh, how far could this creature misfit segue! And Cirth herself stood not so far away, Her shorter snout sniffling precariously; Felic began to rise, but his decay Put damper to his typical esprit. He turned to peek, and was greatly surprised With all the sight that lay exit beyondA warriors tribe, of which few men comprised, In front a lively looking platnum blonde. She turned her head, short hair forming halosFelic felt sharp eyes scourge his every move. Chaye, she charged with bulging collarbones, Her gaze not moving from him, strength to prove. A nearby warrior ran without delay And moments later came a youthful sage Few wrinkles imprinted, her air conveyed A strong respect for hunter middle-aged. She wore a headdress, scarlet-feathered bright, And robes plain as the earth on which she stood, But held a stubborn gaze none could benight And clear that no man tried, or ever would. For draped across her shoulders was a skin, Brown fur that sent nerves tingling down his backA mark of foe, versus hed never winHis dreadful skins borne like a golden plaque. Chaye, the woman warrior looked up, harsh, He carries scent of Ioras foul lands. The bear-skinned leader nodded, and demarche From Felics own kings lacked in her commands. He smells indeed, but why, then, did you bring His oozing pores into our own faction?

The roots cried, but I could not let them wring his neck, for ignorance is fouler action. The elder laughed, And what business has he To wander through the forests all alone? Master, Felic looked up, I beg you, hear my pleaWe were attacked, my only cohort slewn. My parents died when I was full of youth When Iora was slaughtered by Velci. I traveled with my uncle, thats the truth. Chaye nodded, but said only, I see. Elder, the girl spoke up, what do you judge? He speaks convincingly, without malice As to his origins, I hold no grudge For he, unlike the rest, is not callous. Felic looked up, surprised, as Chaye spoke: Lurixe, he is your burden to care for Until he chooses whethr to stay or leave. Burden? Felic repeated, lost for words As Chaye nodded, smiling, him aggrieved. Thats what I am? he turned to the warrioress. A liability for precious time? Into your daily life, another stress? Oh, what has happened to this wretched tribe? Where are your men but working in the house? The men are strong, so labor is their strengthWhat other reason would one choose a spouse But to have backup within an arms length? The woman is more governed and precise While men are cautious as they court their damesWhat better way could there be to entice A woman than by keeping warrior tame?

Lurixes pale hair swished as Felic stared, Then why? he asked. Your arrows sting, but men Are stronger still to shoot with power blared So why would you choose females over them? You shame yourself. My calves are stiffer still Than yours, nor are your arms thicker than twigs And I am but a common warrior- skill Is not my own, yet I outclass you, prig. The boy clutched at his waist embarrassedly But realized Lurixe held his only spearHe seethed as she looked at him with pity, And tossed the weapon with a simple, Here. He snatched it from his air and gave a shrill Whistle to Cirth, who bounded to his side; He mounted her, eyes coated with a chill And left without a single thank or bye. He rode until he reached the forest edge And realized he lacked heart to cross alone. He heard behind a stirring of the sedgeOut stepped Lurixe atop a steed her own. Your problem lies within the doubts your own; The forest holds no grudge, as nor do we. Puritys made of glass, the world a stone, And shamelessness is wrong- one has to see That sin is human judgment, solely ours, And neither plant nor beast dares judge a soul For both know not of sin or vile powers And neither one is humans out to dole, Yet only man can hand out judgment, so Does sin exist, or is it our mirage? Felic pondered, before his eyes did glow

And then withdrew from judgments entourage. He heard a cry and intuitively raised His arm to catch Slands kestrel, beating wings, And took the letter, eyes churning, ablaze, And said, I must report to the high king. You must? Lurixe inquired skeptically. He wishes me to fight for Iora, And you, warrior, must know, one cannot flee From Fate, when he comes clad in such auras. You wish to seek your fate? Be it, she said, Though I believe in independent will; Be warned, though, I shant weep if you are dead, Not even when your eyes shall flicker still. But you will follow? he asked anxiously, And then received a nod in anxious turn; He turned, with assured strides, to take his leave For once without the city behind burned. Book the Fifth Lurixe followed Felic into the woods Leading her stallion onward without fear; Felic envied her, how she understood So simply, life, so ruthless and austere. They traveled onward, speaking not a word Until lights faint and twinkling did alight. Jarze, Felic spoke; Lurixe barely heard, His humbled voice drowned out in chirping night. The city? she repeated, tapering Her gaze intense, and tightly gripped a bladeHe watched as she rode on, unwavering, We neednt enter, he said, long delayed. She glanced at him, a hint of gratitude

Playing her faces features- twas lights trick? But as they wandered on, and time accrued So care accrued as well, stirring a wick. They traveled further, stopping in the copse To rest, where soldiers dared not step a foot And as they moved, Felic dared not his hopes Let soar; yet he could not make them stay put. He watched the rebuilt citys lights, at ease, Not caring that hed never see again The towring walls impressive, for the trees Were quite enough, with warrioress, for him. The two trod onward past the Velcin camps Set up throughout Ioras verdant lands. Reduced to little more than peasant tramps Felic at last answered the kings command. Lurixe, I ask you wait for my return, For I cannot force you to bear my load. She nodded, But dont dare meet me with spurn; To wait, I must shed all my pieces sewn. For no woman here rides a horse or bears A sword as her companion, so Ill change. Youll sell your steed? He met her steady glare: Ill wear clothes of warrior shot in the range. He frowned, but gave a nod and turned round Cirth And galloped toward the temple Ioran But glanced behind as hoof passed over earth; Hoping to see her face again, he ran. He finlly stopped his steed short of the gate Tied her, and leapt, walking with gravity An air sobering, knowing not his fate But nonetheless, not one for self-pity.

King Tearre, he shouted as he entered tall, Ive come to see about your entreaty. Felic, Tearre rose, Your deeds to me enthrall So I would like to make you my draftee. Ive heard you crossed the forest of the dark And killed a Velcin soldier on the way. Its true? he asked, expecting some remark, But Felic only nodded, no words to say. Well done, Tearre continued, shaken a bit, I know, now, that you soldiers have much pride, So all my gold and silver wont permit Enrollment- but one gift you wont deny. I have, he said, a sword blessed by our God. He pulled it from his belt, and sent a chill Spiraling down Felics spine as he, awed, Reached out his hands to touch celestial will. The king pulled back his hands- I cannot give This sword to you unless you join our ranks. Its strength is pure divine- and could you live Knowing this sword through lewd other hands sank? Captivated, Felic looked at the blade, But shook his head. Your rapier is fine, But I know platinum of higher grade, For it glows without darkness intertwined. But metal of the Lord is yet unmatched! King Tearre exclaimed with narrowed, beady eyes. Ive seen beauty this sword cant even scratch, But nothing you could give me as a prize. I cannot let you go, Tearre shook his head. I order you, or dare you face my wrath? Congratulate me, then bring me in dead?

I hardly could tread so fickle a path. Filled with contempt, Felic lifted his hand, And pointed- Killing is nothing to praise. You say? Tearre laughed. Martyrdoms something grand, And heads are honored- see, it runs both ways. You wish to make a difference, this I see, But to ascend, one first must show his soul And still come out on top with energy From the clear bottom of the totem pole. I must refuse, for though to change one must Have power- but lose myself on the way? Tearre raised his hand. So be it. Then he thrust His arm out, and the soldiers broke away Like molds springing to life, they rushed Felic, Who whistled, as a kestrel broke through glass, A thousand colored shards crashing, oblique And lo! Into King Tearre the shards amassed. He screamed as Felic leapt back through the doors And threw his spear straight through the kestrels heartThe man felt sorrow pang at his own, sore, But nonetheless sprang forward with a start. Lurixe was at his side in a heartbeat. You didnt go, she blinked curiously. I couldnt, he admitted, not repeat The horrors done on my own dead city. He offered you something? she raised her brows. The sword of God, he sighed, eyes glimmering. She snorted. Gods sword, and you turned it down? Ive seen silver that dwarfs it to nothing. I hope Ill have that sword, Lurixe half-smiled, A blade that dwarfs Gods own? And you have none?

I have a sheathe thats served me all the while, And more to fill it than Tearres ever won. He smiled sadly. Lurixe, I must return To Velcin lands, and find out how their king Will next attack. Then I will make them learn Their foolishness, else their own necks they wring. Ill come with you, she stiffened on her beast. Youd already be dead if not for me. So be it, Felic grinned, let us move east And lash upon both sides wretched decrees! He gave a nudge, and Cirth began a run, Lurixe still matching his pace easily, And ran countless miles under beating sun And over hills coated in lush grass green. When hooves stepped into city, two were one; A merge at no certain point had occurred. Felic trod to the towns inn, where stood, stunned, A group chattering over latest word. The king is sending troops towards the woods, The most ruthless, to attack Iora! A cheer broke out as Felic barely stood, Horrorstruck as he felt a faint auraThe scent of war, a scent no nose could trace, Was fresh upon the air round Velcin inn, And Felic, more than most, knew, by both grace And blood, that war was not a game to win. Felic, Lurixe beckoned him to the side, Her eyes sinister, lurking trails of hate. Theyre going through my tribesland, to go wide Of Iora, she seethed, dark and irate. To launch surprise attacks, Felic filled in.

I must go back to fight beside my tribe. He looked at her with disbelief, all vim Rushed from his face, gave a desolate sigh: I cant go back with you, Lurixe, I must Defend my homeland, and try to save manWith all the burdens you carry, I trust You know how Im obliged- you understand. She looked at him, hairs quivring on her neck, And spoke: Those men are ruthless, every one Thats why they pass through the forest uncheckedThey have no shame. For them youd spill more blood? I must, I owe it to each man alive For if we give up hope, whats left to hold? Lurixe turned. Then you go, but bear in mind: Perish and none shall weep over your soul. She left without a glance over her back And lo, he watched her leave, each, every bound, Then turned to leave, the odds against him stacked, Without hopes for return, and still uncrowned. He knew his fate, and embraced all it meant And as the last of hopes deserted him The truth uncut took his wallowed laments: Crowns only stole light from truly great men. Book the Last Away, he cried, and watched the hawk take wing, The duty-bound sprite of the innkeeper, Clasping a message, Urgent: to the King, Bound east to the Ioran emperor. Highness, the Velcin king intends to run Through the dark wood to launch a devious blow, And catch the kingdom unawares. Hes done

With chivalry- hes got a crown to stow. Within a day, two new rumors spread round: The Ioran king plans to attack soon, Before the time hes heard Velci will sound Their warhorns- starts under a fortnights moon. Two days at night I have to find the field, Felic thought darkly, lest the world turns hell. But lo, the rumor next had his fate sealed: The Velcin king has heard news and impelled Our vast empire to split in forces dual, With one to storm the wood and wipe the Tribe Thats planned to challenge our emperors rule; The other heads on course to Iora, And both set off yesterday without warn. The young man leapt on Cirth to handle the Approaching war- such common sense to scorn! He rode upon the trunked, light-footed mare Until both armies lay within his sight, And looked to bordered woods, to meet the stares Of thousands cloaked in shadows pure from night. He looked among them for Lurixes eyes, But saw them not, sweeping through dark in vain. Whether absent or hiding to despise, He knew not- but he longed for her both ways. He waited until both sides neared the meet, And stood still, waiting, glares freezing as ice. Just as they drew their swords, noble Felic Began his words, to unveil, not entice: My good people, Ive traveled far and wide Seeking to obtain immortality: Gold and bloodshed do no good for the eyes

Which see eternal life in broadest scheme. You see, no man of sin should live foreer; Yet by our standards, every man has sinned. What man so pure could never miss his air? No, standards start in wars no country wins. But who, he raised his voice, can decide wrong? We punish those who break Almighty codes, Yet who said life forever was too long? We walk upon a self-imprinted road. If we rose above blame, and left justice To everything deciding our lifetimes, Then think of all the sorrow we could miss! Wed lose the useless creeping down our spines. But men would run amok, a man burst out. Without a conscience, what is all mankind? The individuals morals are devout; The groups judgments the only one thats blind. For were taught not to kill, but here you stand, With swords you throw around like children cruel, Rewarded on the count of heads in handsPerhaps its time you turned out of such fools. Enough of this, the Ioran king growled, Ill let you test your ideals on our Lord. My son will fight you, wretched fool, on ground, And he will wield Our Fathers blessed Sword. A dark blonde, pale man leapt off of his steed, And, with a gentle hand, pulled out the blade. Felic was blinded momentarily Before he readied to fight the Crusade. He swept a spear from his leatherskin belt And watched the Velcin king make his decree:

If this man wins, well both pull back, he yelled, But if he loses, no man here shall flee. Begin, the king declared, and so Felic Began with skill that not a foe had matchedBut as the dazzling blade soared with a sweep, He watched as hope vanished without a clash, For blade divine cut through his spear, a knife Through butter, piercing through his armoured chest, And left a long gash, ebbing precious life, His javelin no match for weapon blessed. He drew a dagger, but without a pause, It shattered under blade, a slab of skin Too quick to follow- so lost was the cause, Yet die the warrior would, to vanquish sin, And so he took his sheathe, which never fit His sword quite right, and held it up, the pride Of soldier swelling in him as he hit The sword, which, by miracle, slid inside. He leapt backwards, astounded: then he knew His uncle brave- what better man could bear A cross to bury strength, after he slew So many, when he feared the flesh hed tear? He snatched the tip of his spear, and he pierced The mans unguarded neck, and slit his throat. Ill bury you, he promised, the mans tears Seeming to understand Felics minds growth. The kings stared at each other, until one Shouted- Attack! and, save no single word, Both sides came crashing, every horse to run, Like torrents as they sped, colossal herds. A spirl of hooves came crashing on the man

Left on the ground defenseless, soaked in blood, Gods own Sword still extended in his hand As there he fell beneath the trampling flood. Above his drowning consciousness, a cry Rose from the forest, as with roaring treads Lurixe blitzed toward the center, as in reply To grievance, fleets of arrows struck the heads Of every man clashing in the front rows, A million more behind in brave retort. With panic dire at such an overflow Of tribal fiends, each army fell back short. Among the chaos, Felic could feel a grip Take his trod body gently by his sides And spite his trampled skull, awoke as gentle drip Of water, drenched in sea, poured from her eyes. Lurixe, in snowy fur, cradled his head, Unswaddled as no bandage could do good For all his own crimson rivers he bled As she hauled him to the edge of the wood. Lurixe, he quivered on the verge of dark, As she turned, eyes two shadows in damp holes. I know now why no man will not embark Upon his trip to lands beyond our whole: Man chose to fight, and therefore chose to die, For there can be no war without murder; Lo, only man could go so far awry For death over life for him to prefer! Alas! I cannot make the choice for they Who without pause have clear destroyed our hopes For immortality, oh that we prayed For so devotedly, we could have groped

He sighed, and stilled. Lurixe slid oer his gaze With gentle, nimble hand, and murmured soft, Dear visionary, early were your days For these souls wretched, hanging yours aloft, But perhaps for the best it is no man Shall ever bear in mind his nearing ends And as they live, they know their wretched span And best their lives, til for them heaven sends. I fear to see what such corruption could Do with no weighted value on dear life. And in that light, Felic, I see tis good That sleep can come to us without a knife.