Sunday, September 24, 2017

Paths of Damnation - The Final Chapter (never got to the parts between)

We were gathered in the rooms above the inn. Rooms we had spent so many days, evenings and nights in talking with those gone and those still with us. I had come too late to change the battle's outcome. Five survivors. Of twenty six rash young fools, only five had lived, and we may still lose Billenius. Her breath had burnt him badly as he tried to reach Nonia to save her. Arms, legs, chest, face, all burnt. He had inhaled her breath and thus scorched his lungs and throat as well. And unless the gods would grant healing to him, or the great healer come soon, nothing would save him. 

The local priests of his kind are trying valiantly to save him, and failing. Only the gods could save them. Or that servant of my sire, if he could be found. I could feel the old lizard, even across all that expanse of sand to my east, flying here himself. He had told to guard this elf, but I had failed. I was certain that the rage I felt was more at me than the bitch of our kine up that mountain. She had withdrawn not because of my presence, I knew now. One of those upon my back was who she had feared in that moment. Rutilius was not the fool we had all thought, and his rage had surpassed mine on that ridge below her lair. 

And now, I had to play the waiting game. To see who would come first, the death god of his folk to take his spirit from his flesh, or father and his healer. Had I the knowledge of how to call him, I would break the rules of all and call upon the rider of the ass to come to his aid. 

The fear of the blue ones screamed across the leagues of desert, as my sire roared by them, I could sense them all, seeking the deepest pits of sand to hide from the rage of the heir of the Lord of the Arbitrations. And it was a terrifying rage, one that was causing fear even in the heights above this town, where the Queen of Flame lay trying to heal her own wounds, dealt more by the ones she had maimed and slain than we who came in rescue. I knew I would taste some piece of that rage, even if it were only words. 

The dwarf beside him with the arm so chewed up by servants of the beast was crying as the dwarven chirugeon sawed off the arm above the elbow. But the tears were not for himself, but his dead twin still up there on the mountain's foothills, where ever the creatures of flame had taken his body to toss aside or consume with their inner flames.

Still I feel my sire, there is no cooling in his rage, or his determination to be here in time to save those he can. This is not the beast that others think he is, but the one I know of, who does have a heart, and it is as red and loving as all think it is black and cold. Billenius was my friend, and for that father had spoken with him several times over the years. Then something else had grown between them, a respect for each other, or what they were to me. I know not still. 

There is the displacement of air outside and the rage is here, but contained more closely of the sudden. I hear the howling winds raging out from where he has teleported to, like the storms of the desert that often assail this town on the benches that rise from the desert floor. He is here, there is hope. Doors burst apart before the healer as he enters, giving commands to bring him supplies for healing and surgery. All know who Zotikos is, the great healer who serves my sire. 

None know the whole truth, and if they had, he would have been slain in that moment, out of fear he had come to ally with the bitch. The door opens, and he strides in with a pace that is nearly a run. He bypasses the three the local healers had thought to save, and approaches Billenius. He stops and hisses loudly. 

"Bahai-Luthna-Naish." With that naming, my own mind exploded. She had forged her own fate, created the thing that we dragons feared the most. Sees-Without-Eyes" that my sire's sire's sire had prophesied of. The bane who would slay the great dragons of the day and choose from those he left alive to be the next Lords of the Arbitraitions to take back our ancient homeland.

Now I knew the respect of mine sire for mine friend. 

Alive, just distracted

I am alive.

Not Dead, not hospitalized, institutionalized (though some argue I should be), or homeless again.

Just been too dang busy and worn out to write properly. What I have written, well, I'd need a new blog, with that bloody gate that informs you it is "adult material" and too poorly written to share anyways.

Not that I intend to stay silent much longer.

Part of the problem of late is that my "news-junkie" problem has arisen again, and needs dealing with soon. Preferably by things calming the hell down in this world.

Monday, August 14, 2017

Playing the barbarians off
one against another
leads to a dangerous time
where thrones fall.

We forget such things,
in this day
and now hectic age,
doing such again.

The current brinkmanship competition
playing out now
in Asia's North-East
shows this rule.

Condemned to repeat past
for fogetting history.
That is our fate
in troubled times.

This is a Warning
to those playing
the modern Great Game,
risking nuclear war.

Look to your pasts
China and Russia,
seek the empires before
my own nation.

For if we fall
into this trap,
too many peoples' lives
will thus end.

I know the reasons
that each give,
and understand the frustration
leading us here.

Beware History's cruelest lesson,
about how fall
empires and republics alike
into decayed corpses.

Take heed of tales
older than time
about over-extension's price,
and ruin brought.

For I am not willing to pay such a price.
Nor am I comfortable with letting aggression win.
This is the poor man's dilemna
that others decide our fates
based on what's best for them.

A troubled Dyfedd Rex, 13Aug2017.

Friday, April 28, 2017

Sky Cat's Malign Gaze Haunts Me - a Poem of Whimsy and Moonlight

I can feel his gaze,
that hunter's malign stare boring down
from amid the clouds
over towards the horizon.

Almond moon, cirrus veiled
with lower dark masses framing it,
set to the right
of building westward now.

Sky Cat looks down,
seeking for some prey to steal
the soul from swiftly
peeking around that edifice.

I know it to be illussion.
I know it to be just fear.
But, in my heart that trembles
reason cannot enter back in.
For Sky Cat is hunting me.

Moon just past half,
forms his eye, dark mares orbit aligned
to form vertical slit
that makes the cat's-eye.

Sprinkles from passing clouds
only enhance the feeling I get
as that eye searches
from between racing cloud-banks.

Each moment heart races,
as the superstitions mount within me,
of the beast hunting
the sky for souls.

I fear the damned illussion cast,
I embrace the fear with heart
for I know he hunts for me
to break down my life
inside Sky Cat's wickedly sharp teeth.

Setting behind the mountains
does not break the dark spell
as pines appear now
like blades of grass.

He lowers down now,
to pounce over the landscape below
and catch out prey
he has spooked out.

I am that prey.
I am the one he vigilantly seeks,
to bring low forever,
for sins, real and imagined.

Sky Cat stalks the skies of night
stirring the fear in any who
by chance note that eye of his
gazing down with malign intent
to pounce upon those not pure.

-28Apr2017, a still chilled Dyfedd Rex.