Introduction
The Battle of Denthfeld took place in 123 FE, fifty years before the death of Sencan, first king of the Ambori. Denthfeld, "the Northern Seat" in the tongue of the Oornans, was the northern fortress of Vishnarr's realm at the beginning of the First Times and the chief seat of his power. Vishnarr's power had waxed ever greater throughout the Dark Years, and save for a few isolated strongholds which yet resisted him, more by secrecy than by might, his rule over Northern Kwaodran was complete.
Or nearly so. In 1 FE Sencan the Great led forth a great strength of the descendants of the Treianraal from the Black Hills, and coming Westward they met at last their long-sundered kin in the Amborian Wood. They were a great people; numerous, strong of will for their long years of slavery, and there were among them some who still remembered the ancient arts of Fiehoth of old. Sencan bided his time, building his strength and a mighty arsenal. After more than a hundred years had passed, he broke forth from his secrecy, and with Dega Khan of the Ekkisliad and Duke Vaneral of the Oornans, he assaulted Vishnarr at Denthfeld, intending to lay siege to it.
Now Vishnarr could not be easily overthrown, for he was yet mighty, and for many years his power had grown unchallenged in the North. Within the walls of Denthfeld he might have withstood the siege of the three kings for many long years, with little hurt to himself. But he was proud, and recked little of his foes, and marched forth in strength to meet them. Then there was battle upon the plain before Denthfeld, and Vishnarr was overthrown by the treachery of his own lieutenants. For Orkon, being lifted up in pride, despised the rule of his master, and thought it ill that he should come and go at the will of another. Then Orkon stole the Scepter of the Moon, by means of which Vishnarr had gained most of his earthly power, and fled from the battle in the form of a great vulture. But a chance arrow, black-feathered, so that afterwards men believed it was shot by one of Vishnarr's own servants, struck him, and the Scepter of the Moon fell into a chasm of the earth, and was lost.
Then Vishnarr's power was diminished, and his hosts wavered, and against the sword of Sencan and the spear of Dega, none could stand. Vishnarr, seeing the battle had turned against him, fled away with his chief servants to the Isles of Shadow in the far South, there to plot his revenge, and the walls and towers of Denthfeld were cast down. But Duke Vaneral was slain in the battle, when his band of outlaws pressed hard upon the monstrous guard of Vishnarr. So Rian was chosen to rule the Oornans in his stead. There were many battles yet to be fought in the north of the world, for Orkon yet had a great host in the Black Hills, and many other of Vishnarr's chief servants lurked long in hiding places in the Red and Sickle Mountains, and Aaran yet lay under Vishnarr's sway. Yet from that moment was the power of Vishnarr deemed broken, and the Dark Years ended.
The Text
The Lay of the Battle of Denthfeld is of very late composition, written in the middle of the Third Eon, probably under the patronage of Orrinuan. Its authorship is anonymous, but it seems very likely to have been written by Peremein, the king's poet. Its style is elevated and courtly, and less attention seems to have been given to the historical details of the situation than to the images the poet found striking--he notably situates his story a mere "score of years" after the rise of Sencan. In this, he is working within an established tradition of popular ballads, lays, oral tales, and prose account, seeking to build on this foundation for his elevated narrative.
The present text was prepared with reference to two copies, in different hands, found in the Royal Library. There are very few differences between them, of which none substantially alter the meaning of the text. Where there was a discrepancy of wording or meter, I have tended to prefer the reading of the A text, of which I believe the B text to be a later copy.
PROLOGUE
May all the stars of Heaven downward bend
Upon their crystal porches vaulted high
And lend me ancient speech, now lost to men
Since Feihoth earthward fell from native sky.
O, give me aid to sing of Sencan's line
Of serried spears like reeds upon the shore,
And help me sing of Dega's wild might
And the lightning of his seven-thousand swords.
My halting pen could not, though tipped with gold,
Extol with fitting praise those mighty kings
Who in days before the world was old
Withstood the hosts of hell in shining rings.
A beauty shines in the countenance of kings
Which dims the poet's eye and stills his pen.
So only feeble tribute can I bring
To lay before the ancient kings of men.
The cause of war enable me to tell:
The thralldom base by which the fallen Stars--
Who from the dome of heaven, burning, fell
For waging that most impotent of wars--
Enslaved the world; and chiefly that Vishnarr
Who stole the jeweled scepter of the Moon
And spread the darkness of his malice far
Until at Vishnarr's Seat he met his doom.
For far away, in shadowed caverns grim
Tall Sencan forged the Blade of Ice that Breathes,
And in the West proud Dega wandered long
In strange and ancient delvings under Sea.
And Vaneral, bold-hearted, throneless king,
In wild places and the mountain wastes,
Outlaw, beggar, vagabond, but free,
Awaited the deliverance of his race.
A light flared up above the Inland Sea;
A fire stirred and swept the Middle Plains;
And in the Southern Mountains outlaws free
Heard with joy the song the first Stars sang.
They drew their swords--the steel from scabbards rang!
While in the North a host of new-forged spears
Embarked for battle on the Oornan plain,
And the wild horsemen rode at Dega's rear.
Men, in songs first sung on ancient lyre,
The horseman's screaming banners first recalled,
And the tale of Vaneral in battle dire
Is sung by holy poets in the hall.
Should I boast, or dare, that plain to haunt,
Where once the mighty feet of Sencan trod,
Where many carven creatures, twisted and gaunt,
And the ancient kings of men lay under sod?
I will dare it, O celestial choir,
If words you lend me from the hoard of Night
To light this lamp with more than mortal fire
And on the shadowed past to cast my light.
Now we gaze with more than mortal sight
To where an ancient, holy hilltop stands,
And on it, built by Sencan's lordly might,
A buttressed wall the country 'round commands.
CANTO I: THE SETTING FORTH OF SENCAN
Argument: Geban, messenger of Dega, Khan of the Ekkisliad, delivers the summons of his master to Sencan. Dega intends to make war upon Vishnarr at Denthfeld, to defeat him if possible, and to drive him from the North. Sencan, after holding counsel with his queen Hasanja, resolves to go to the war, but Hasanja prophesies that he will be carried south to the war in a ship not his own, and only by this means will he come to the battle in time. Sencan goes down to the shore of the Sea where he sees the fleet of the Njeitbori sailing up towards him out of the mist. They have been commanded by the Stars in a vision to carry Sencan to the battle. Sencan accepts their offer of help, and offers them his friendship forever.
Two massive doors from cedar hewn and cast
In bronze--and sharp and brazen their reliefs
The story tell with more than mortal craft
Of Alyeitalya's dance amid the trees--
Hang on brazen hinges cast like leaves
Before the mouth of Sencan's new-built hall,
And open, guard the throne room of the kings
Within the azure circuit of the wall.
The king is sitting on a cypress chair,
A woven crown of gold adorns his head.
Behind him, bright against his ebon hair,
His banner hangs, a mesh of pearly threads:
An argent cloth upon a spear-shaft's head,
Its field a living gem of light disclosed.
Beside that gem a fang was gleaming red,
And on the dexter side a golden bow.
The king a letter holds in outstretched hand,
To give to one who stands beside his throne.
Upon the stranger, a strange and unkempt man
Who stands upon the new-laid paving stones,
He looks, and wanders long in thought alone.
"Our royal brother Dega sends for aid.
To deadly war against a common foe
He bids me march, and bring the Living Blade."
"The Khan of Khans in twilit paths has trod,"
The unkempt stranger said, with flashing eyes,
"And far beyond the ken of mortal thought
Has treated with the spirits of the wise.
One Tal-Geshtar, a stallion snowy-white
Through the wailing twilight down below--
Where dead men's shades the day of doom abide--
Him led, and many mysteries he showed.
"The Khan of Khans the world's foundation stone,
On which is writ the Word by which the World
Is sounded out from Nankeinela's throne,
He saw, and then from thence was swiftly hurled.
Then the tapestry cruel Fate unfurled
Which he began to weave wen first the sound
Of the opening syllable was heard
And shook the Void with ecstasy profound.
"And on his dark'ning web the Spider showed
How lives of kings enmeshed with threads of slaves,
And how the might of men begins to grow,
And how the might of Starfolk swiftly fades.
'Seek those kings who once knew bitter chains,
And seek the one whose ancient bloodlines blend
The might of Feihoth, born among the waves,
With the blood of ancient kings of mortal men.'
"Then in ancient caverns lost to men
The spider struck the Chief of Chieftains blind.
And Tal-Geshtar, the mighty spirit, led
Him up by twisting passages that wind
To where, no mortal man can ever find,
For none may look upon the Final Things
Unless he, in a mirror, looks through Time
Back to the One from whom all others spring.
"So the Khan of Khans to us returned
And blinking, stood upon the Field of Kings.
He raised his horn, his trumpet shook the earth,
And all around the hills began to ring.
'I have seen the fate of mighty kings:
To raise their banners three against the Star
Who sits enthroned on the Marches of the Sea
And bring against him swift and deadly war.
"'What end the Dreadful Weaver then intends,
When spears and swords have done their deadly work,
I do not know, I could not see the end,
Nor can I make the ends of battle sure.
But ends are not a cause for men to shirk
From Fate's appointment, though to death they go,
And though they all should perish in the work,
Yet would by death their native valor show.
"'I will not falter in the face of fear,
For I have looked upon the hidden things:
I have seen, with living vision clear,
The formless shadows, born on naked wings.
Ihave heard the songs which dead men sing,
With living ears, and lived to tell the tale.
But I will pay for Fortune's boon to me--
When I die and pass beyond her veil.
"'Now call the riders to the weapon-take
And let them string their mighty bows of horn,
For I will test the woven will of Fate,
Though I should die in battle on the moor.'
So the Khan of Khans an oath there swore,
And sent those riders who could swiftest go.
And so your servant Geban mounted horse
And to your southern marches swiftly rode."
Then long in thought great Sencan sat enthroned,
Who had in caverned fastness first the song
Of Raos, blessed Polestar, heard and known,
Amid the gloom of bitter thralldom long.
"'tis less a score of years since we the throng
Of Ambori led forth from dungeons deep.
'tis less than ten since marble ramparts long
Were raised to fence the Hill and Azure Keep.
"An early trial of our native might
Might spell the ruin of our new-forged crown,
As when a youth, emboldened by the sight
Of bristling boar that turns upon the hounds
Dismounts his horse, advances on the ground,
And braves the deadly gleaming of the tusks;
But the bristling boar stands grunting on the mound
And the bold, but foolish, youth rolls in the dust.
"But Dega sends a charge we cannot spurn:
If truly he the web of Fate has read,
Then we with bitter spears and faces stern
Must march to meet the countless hosts of dread.
Upon the southern marches, glinting red,
Our swords, which in captivity were forged
Will well requite the tears our fathers shed
In darkness under slavery's foul scourge."
So resolved, the king dismissed his guest
And rose to seek the counsel of the Queen
Who stood, in shining samite queenly dressed,
And looked into the Sacred Water's sheen.
"Far away in War," said the Queen,
"In lands beyond the Sea of Orusen
Shall clash in deadly battle mighty kings--
And one of them shall not return again."
"Then would you, Queen, that I the will of Fate
Deny, and stay in safety here at home
While in the South the kings of less estate
Contend against the Lord of Dread alone?"
"The will of Fate no mortal man may know--
The hem of that dark tapestry he hides.
So kings, and base-born churls, blindly go
And blindly, Fate their destiny prescribes."
Then the king the captains of his host
Commands to make them ready for the march,
And all things are swiftly then disposed
As the duties of their office they discharge.
And when the host was ready for the march
Hasanjah came again before the King
And fastened on his mail, and sword, and targe,
And kissing him she spake, most noble Queen:
"In dreams I saw a wood of quiv'ring ash
Which rippled like a wave against the storm.
In dreams I heard the mighty armies clash
With wrath upon the Marches of the North.
But late have come the summons to the War,
For I have seen the marshaling of spears
And banners black as midnight marching forth
To sow the world with misery and tears."
"Then each delay I grudge, and we must forth
To battle swiftly march with all our haste,
Or else too late descend we from the North
To even from the corpses ravens chase."
"Some other way than marching you must take,
For this I dreamed, or saw, I know not which,
That on a speeding ship your banner traced--
A tall ship steered by long-forgotten kin."
Then Sencan bids his host march to the Sea,
And downward from the Holy Hill descends
The sovereign king of Feihoth's offspring free--
The rightful heir of holy Orusen.
Upon the ness the glorious king of men
Stands, and southward turns his piercing gaze
To where the Njeitbori their barges wend
Towards the shore through morning's misty haze.
"What news, O men, from murky waters deep
Beyond the forest which your fathers knew,
And under waves where gloomy creatures creep
Through valleys choked with weeds of sickly hue?"
"The Deep Men say that all the Stars are true
Who cross High Heaven in their solemn dance.
Our prophets read their words in shining dew
And hear the heavens whisper in a trance."
"So Deep Men come in ships of timbers fast
To ferry Sencan's banner to the South.
So let the monarch deep with wisdom pass
By reedy boat beyond the river's mouth".
"So will I pass, and passage to the South
Accept--but for this boon what gifts can I
The Deep Men, who no walled estate or house
Desire, reward, who thus my need supply?"
"No want have we for gems of dolven earth,
Nor for the gold which kings in houses store.
Such weighty trash we Deep Men count as cursed
Though earthly kings may pile them in their hoards.
For, once they leave the safety of their shores,
Then waves and storm return to earth and sea
What miner's hands with labor have brought forth.
The sea which birthed us gives us all we need."
"One gift alone our person has to grant:
The love and lordship of our royal throne.
So if the Deep Men take our offered hand,
Then enver will they stand, at need, alone.
In war, in fear, or if the Sea should groan
With blighted tides which death bring to the deeps,
Then let them look for help to Sencan's throne
Which by the right of Heaven rules the Sea."
"The kings of men may rule land and sky,
But water holds the memory of Stars:
When they held their stately courts less high
Before the earth was sundered by their wars.
The water holds the memory of stars,
And for that cause its fate no man may rule.
And there are too the trenches wide and dark
Whence come hungry creatures, long of tooth.
"Those creatures have no memory of light,
Unless it be some hatred of the dawn
Which spread across the new-made world when Night
Was ended, and the first of days begun.
Then they upward glanced, and feared the sun,
And down into deep chasms lost to time
They fled, and grew in malice, daylight shunned,
Removed from light--and the rule of your line.
"Many things will not be yours to rule--
The Deep Men many secret paths have trod.
Many wars we wage with monsters cruel
Beneath the waves which reck not of your rod.
But friendship we shun not, if you abroad
Your worthy arms can prove against the hordes
Of him whom long ago our fathers fought
And reckoned him invincible in war."
The bargain struck, wise Sencan bids his spears
The barges of the Njeitbori to board.
Then Southward, through the veil of morning's tears
The host of Sencan ventured forth to war.
Then the vision fades, as from afar,
When mists obscure the stern of some high ship;
Or when her starry curtain Nature draws
To cover weary Earth in gentle sleep.
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