The Lay of Denthfeld: Canto V and Epilogue

Audio Recording

CANTO V: THE DOWNFALL OF VISHNARR

Argument: The charge of the Ambori. Orkon's host is overthrown as the Ambori route the Nalshbori. Vishnarr joins the fray and, wielding a great hammer of fire, cuts his way through the Ekkis ranks. Dega assaults him, but is overthrown. Sencan intervenes and confronts Vishnarr, and the two of them battle on the plain. Sencan wounds Vishnarr. Orkon, seeing Vishnarr's armies are on the verge of defeat, laughs as he takes to the sky, thus betraying his treachery to his master. Vishnarr lashes out at him, causing him to drop the Scepter of the Moon into a great chasm which had opened up in the earth, and the earth shuts and swallows it. With the Scepter gone and his troops routed, Vishnarr takes to the air, fleeing to the starless South, while Orkon wings away from the field of battle--but not before the latter is struck with an arrow, fired at chance by one of his own servants. Sencan, Dega, and Rian meet upon the field, and in the aftermath of victory the funeral pyres are lit. The funeral of Vaneral. The kings of the Ambori, Oorna, and the Ekkisliad swear unending friendship to one another.

All words which are were stored in Heaven's vault

When first the jeweled world was made to spin,

And are the sounds and syllables of Thought:

The single Word which all things made begins.

And when its speaking slow is at an end,

Then under earth a heart will cease to beat.

Tis said a silver music will begin

And Nankeinala will not speak, but sing.

So now, poor poet of this mortal earth,

Once more I crave the light of Heaven's Host

To show me, not the mysteries of words

(Which wiser poets long ago could boast,

Who heard the secret songs the Stars composed),

But help me tell with treasures from your hoard

The deeds of arms by which the dreadful host

Of Vishnarr's might was driven from the North.

A silver trumpet flashes in the sun

Which rises o'er the field where shrink the mists,

And burns away the brimming clouds which run

And naked leave the burning form of him

Who long ago the vault of Heaven quit,

And falling downward broke the new-made earth,

And scarred the Northern lands with firey pits,

And so involved creation in his curse.

Now Orkon halts, his horned things shrink in fear

At silver banners flying on the rise.

Tall Sencan leads a host of shining spears

To fall upon the wing of Orkon's line.

The ardor of the sons of those Divine--

Who long ago alighted on the Isle

Of Feihoth in the Western Sea sublime--

Burns with vengeance for their sea defiled.

For, the heirs of Lanenomen proud

(Who wed the kin of Holy Orusen)

Have raised the hymn of battle with a shout

And rage against their long-ensorcled kin.

The Nalshbori are driven as the wind

Will drive the chaff the farmer's flail has beat,

And Orkon vainly rages in the din,

Then turns, and to the ramparts swiftly flees.

But Vishnarr, burning, stands upon the field,

And, since the Rod of Fate no longer holds,

A mighty iron hammer he now wields

Which demons forged in Southlands long ago.*

That hammer, black as night, begins to glow

With all the firery rage of Vishnarr's wrath.

He falls upon the Ekkis riders bold

And through their ranks he cleaves a bloody path.

B MS: "Which demons forged in Islands long ago."

The twisted bodies of the high-bred mares

And dying stallions screaming in their pain--

The shrieking banners flying through the air--

The belching smoke of hot and hungry flames--

Help me, Stars, to see amid the blades

Which flash as lightning in the rising sun,

The sword of Dega, who in dreadful hate

Spurs his steed to meet the burning one.

He strikes, a deadly serpent born aloft.

Swiftly bites the steel upon the Lord

Of Air and Darkness, but his ire hot

Scorches hand and withers flashing sword.

Dega cries as lightly then his horse

Would make to spring, but springs aside too late.

The Khan of Khans is dashed upon the sward,

His cloven shield beside his smoking blade.

But Sencan's banner from a spear-shaft waves,

And hangs above the fallen Dega's head.

Sencan draws the cold Hurorupeim

And stands alone before the Lord of Dread.

"It were no lie to name already dead,"

Quoth Vishnarr, "him who stood before my face.

Now I will strike, so crush the serpent's head,

And leave your bones to smoke upon the plain."

"Five kings before the Gates of Black I slew

When first I led the Children to the light

Of Stars, which once our free-born fathers knew*

Before the coming of the Days of Night.

And now my blade, Hurorupeim the Bright,

Will quench the burning fire of your wrath."

So Sencan said, and so began the fight

Which shook the very heavens with its clash.

B MS: "Of stars, which long ago our fathers knew"

Of all the captains of the race of men--

That race which first with mortal breath was filled--

There was no greater born than Orusen,

Who slew the yellow serpent on the Hill.

Then by decree of Heaven's perfect will

The blood of men was mingled with the Stars

When Alyeitalya danced upon the Hill,

And Lanenomen triumphed in his wars.

And now, the heir of mighty Lanenom

And Orusen--the scion of their lines--

Stands against the Star by lightning domed

While cold, the Blade of Ice that Glistens shines.

Then Vishnarr raised the mace of iron high

And brought its weight like thunder crashing down.

The mace of fire struck the blade of rime

And broke in molten fragments all around.

And as it broke, the hosts of darkness shook,

As when a sudden storm of summer blows

And barren strips the trees of some great wood,

A roosting place for vultures and for crows.

Seven times, with seven mighty blows,

The King smote Vishnarr on the knee and thigh.

The spears of Sencan routed Horror's Host,

But Orkon laughed and leapt into the sky.

No love or fealty bore he to his lord--

That lord who had agreed his realm to trade,

And give away his wealth of gems in hoard

Beneath the ancient, vaulted Hills of Jade.

Now Orkon would no longer be the slave

Of any pow'r, in Heaven or on earth.

Now he would wait till Sencan's mighty blade

Had passed unto an heir of lesser worth.

Then, in that day, the Scepter of the Moon

Would rise again to shadow all the North,

And Orkon have the rule of the Loom

Of Fate, which governs all the earth.

But Vishnarr heard the laughter breaking forth

As he in mortal strife with Sencan strove.

So uttering a great and deadly curse

His lightnings struck and seven chasms clove.

But swiftly Sencan dodged those deadly bolts,

While Vishnarr, wreathed in thunders, mounted high,

And seeing his betrayer, bade him hold,

And cast him down with lightnings from the sky.

But in his fall the lord of liars cried:

"Dekis failed his errand to the North--

Now pay the weregeld of my wounded pride.

I cast thy hope of conquest in the earth."

Then downward falls the Scepter of the Moon--

The Rod which Heaven long ago bestowed

Upon the Silver Hunter, made to rule

The fates of men who walked the world below.

The Scepter falls into a chasm low

Which Vishnarr's thunder carved into the ground.

Then deep within the earth a firey glow--

The chasm closes with a crash profound.

Then the hosts of Vishnarr flee the field,

And Vishnarr spends his pow'r in empty rage.

The horse of Dega rallies to the kill

And Oornan outlaws charge with flashing blades.

Fleeing from the cold Hurorupeim

And angry at the downfall of his schemes,

Vishnarr, wrapped in cloud, now quits the plain

And towards the lower heaven swiftly wheels.

From there he made his flight to southern lands

Which long beneath a blank and starless night

Have toiled under Vishnarr's heavy hand

And lost the very memory of light.

There he would nurse his wounds and grow in might

And brood on vengeance for his many wrongs,

And bide his time, until the creeping night

On starlit lands should cast its shadow long;

Nor did forget the treason of Orkon

Who was the fatal agent of his fall;

Nor through the many eons dark and long

Did Vishnarr cease to seek again the Rod--

For then would Vishnarr, mighty as a god

Again subject, and bring the starlit earth

To bow beneath the rule of his law

And tremble at the import of his word.

Now Orkon, bat-like, flies from Dega's lance.

But as he flew, some arrow forged for war

By Nalshbo hammer pierced his wing at chance,

And made the scar which afterwards he bore.

'Evil will shall often evil mar'--

So the Sage in ancient times has told.

And so the kingdoms of those fallen stars

Fell before the mighty kings of old.

Then Sencan's banner joined with Dega's lance

And brother monarchs met upon the field.

There Rian came, while high the droning chant

Of victory was sung upon their shields.

There Kai the poet gave to him to wield

The gear of war which Vaneral had left--

For Vaneral had not rejoined the field,

But died of venomed wounds upon his bed.

But Vaneral was not afraid to die--

The last of all of Cumric's ancient kin

Who sheltered as a wick the dying light

And gave his laws unto the hidden men.

Now Rian's sons would rule the Oornan dells

While sundry chieftains war across the plains

And proud, the Aaran juntas rose and fell--

But the Threefold Kingdom did not rise again.

And now great mounds and pyres on the green

Ignite, and poets fill the twilit air

With hymns to guide the spirits on the wing

Unto the foot of Heaven's amber stair.

The greatest mound of all was hallowed there

By Kai the Poet's low and mournful song,

And there they buried Vaneral the Fair,

Where now he sleeps through all the ages long.

Then Sencan greeted Rian as his blood,

"For kings are brothers over all mankind;"

Those two and Dega swore an oath of love

In lasting peace their people's hearts to bind.

So to the love of peace our hearts incline,

Although the marching years have brought us war,

For men are oft unstable in their mind;

But ancient glories last forevermore.

EPILOGUE

All Heaven's Graces move my pen and tongue--

But move them as a smith may move a tool

Which cracked, or bent, or fashioned in the wrong,

Will mar the work of one who knows its use.

So may these staves, serviceable but crude,

Serve to sing the glories of those wars--

But if the verse should seem in fashion rude,

The fault is mine, and not the deathless stars'.

But if my words can move the hearts of men,

Or chance to bend the ear of mighty Heav'n,

I would that they would hark unto my pen

And bless the name of holy Orrinen.

That king, in whom the likeness born again

Of peerless Sencan walks upon the earth,

Distributes grain and wine with open hand,

And blesses all the Children with his word.

That word which is the Law of Sencan's Land

Is light unto the Children of the Stars,

And life like water flows through Sencan's Land

Now purged of all her bloody civil wars.

O, let the perfect love which moves the Stars

In stately order round the azure earth

Enjoin the hearts of men within its guard

To dance in good accord to Heaven's Word.

Now I have told the whole, Celestial Choir,

With words you lent me from the hoard of Night.

My lamp was lit with more than mortal fire

And on the blazing past you shed your light.

Now the veil of ages dims my eyes,

Which cannot even moments brief command.

But ageless, from the mist, white towers rise

Upon the Hill where Sencan's City stands.