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Tales of the Wyrm

Tales of the Wyrm - Volume I
A companion volume to “The Chronicles of Anuru”

Publication Date: June 27, 2012
Purchase: ebook Tales of the Wyrm from Amazon / from Smashwords

Myths and legends, tales of valour and horror, songs and stories and doggerel verse – all this and more lies within, illuminating the world that is Anuru. This is a book of poetry and prose that is intended to serve as a companion volume to the various novels that make up “The Chronicles of Anuru”. Edited by Gwen of Aeryn, a thieving barkeep with a caustic wit, and an eye for epic prose.

 

 

Excerpt:

Twentieth Rune: Minne lohikäärmalta?
(Where are the Dragons?)
(from the Tarusta Lehtori Kultainen, by Ryskankanakis)

Where are the Dragons?
When morning is calling, and Bræadan dawning,
The great wyrms, a-yawning, from stony beds creep;
When night’s shade is falling, and starlight is shining,
On gilt beds reclining, they hie them to sleep.
When hart in the valley or hind in the clearing
Their yearlings are rearing, they plunge from the skies;
Nor linger, nor dally, they fall like the thundering;
Flock and herd sundering, skyward they rise.

When war’s in the offing, and bright armour glistening,
Talon-spurs christening, battleward-bound;
Their treasure-troves doffing, and trumpet-calls shattering,
War machines battering, down on the ground;
Where arrows are whistling, war-horns are blowing,
And hot blood is flowing, and helms shining bright;
Where spear-points are bristling, never despair;
For you’ll find they are there, in the thick of the fight.

Where are the Dragons?
When silver is gleaming, and gemstones are glinting
Exertion unstinting, amassing their hoards;
Of treasure-troves dreaming, their wealth is a wonder
Of pillage and plunder from peasants and lords;
A king’s ransom hoarded, o’er ages laborious
Bright gold and glorious, ever to shine!
His toil rewarded, the vigilant miser
Grows richer and wiser by deed and design.

When rising blood kindles, the ready wyrm reckons –
The mating urge beckons, and all heed its call;
The treasure-lust dwindles, and hearts fill with wonder,
All other ties sunder, when passions enthral.
The ready wyrm rises in splendour victorious;
Majesty glorious outshines the sun;
The new lovers’ guises a-gleam in the shimmering,
Sunbeams a-glimmering, ‘till they are one.

Where are the Dragons?
When wyrmlings are hatching, the weyr-master guarding,
The weyr-mistress warding her children from woe.
With weyr-leader watching, as seasons are turning;
The wyrmlings are learning the things they must know.
With first steps they stumble, until they grow stronger,
Then stumble no longer; the Earth they defy,
From weyr’s-edge they tumble, proud parents beholding,
And new wings unfolding, strike out for the sky.

When age dims the scales, the mighty heart falters –
For time all things alters, and wyrms know it, too –
When limbs are grown frail, and bright fangs are blunted,
The hunters are hunted; the skies they eschew.
Bid farewell to leisure, to harts and to cattle,
To mates and to battle; to new needs succumb;
Bid farewell to treasure; their offspring they chasten;
To the Vale they hasten, for twilight has come.

Where are the Dragons?
At the end of long living, they seek out the stones
Where the bare, weathered bones mark an ancient wyrm’s heart;
Life’s legend reliving, and offspring attending
All bitter pain ending – in glory, depart!
In bright Dracosedes, the Mountains of Miros,
Above fair Fulgoris, where all sorrows cease,
They fly there eternally, fairest and First-Born,
Awaiting the last horn, forever at peace.

 

 

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