Sunday 20 May 2018

The Lore of the TearStones

An excerpt from one of the great Lays of the Eyri.
It is taken from the not-yet-published sequel to Wings in the Wind, called Seasons of the Sun.

Ere first arose the Spirit Sun,
Ere first the Moon his course did run,
The Spirit-Wind, a song He sang,
And by it, Life and Light first sprang.

The skies, the winds it brought to birth,
And by His Song He formed the Earth.

His songs of beauty then did sow
Into the earth all things that grow.
His glory and his fragrance filled
The flowers, the trees, where’ere He willed.

He sent His living breath into 
The dales and hills, and from them drew
All diverse kinds of bird and beast,
The Eyri wingfolk not the least.

The Eyri-folk with joy took wing.
The Great Wind Spirit was their king.
He taught us flight and gave us voice
That with all nature we rejoice.

But scarcely had all flowers unfurled
When darkness came upon this world.
Some wilful wind-sprites spurned His love
And claimed His realm – the skies above.

And so they fell and so they sinned
And fought with every good white wind.
But at the last all evil fails.
Khan-harahe, His will prevails.

Within the earth the dark storms fled.
In darkened caves they made their bed.
Now great white storms the mountains sweep
The dark away, their prisoners keep.

But when their guards would pass them by
In secret these dark winds would fly
And dark deeds do, and havoc wreak,
Deceive the fool, prey on the weak.

One whispered in our fathers’ ears:
“Lo, nothing is as it appears.
Khan-harahe, His proud will bounds
Your freedom to these narrow grounds.

 To conquer is your destiny!
Come! Reign these wide green lands with me!
And if your claim your kin deny
Then they must fall, and they must die!”

Our fathers hearkened to his rede
Then fell deed followed dreadful deed.
Forsaking Him Who ruled the sky
Upon our own wings we would fly.

Through darkened skies and storms of night
Our hearts were hardened through the fight.
Much blood was shed and hands stained red,
Wing’d hate the path we fain would tread.

By Eyrie’s pride, so Eyries died.
The wisest counsel we defied.
The great deceiver, laughing, fled
The white storms’ wrath, their vengeance dread.

In grief and wrath, Khan-harahe 
Would fain have swept us all away.
His sons, the spirit-winds despaired
That any for another cared.

The Spirit Sun in grief beheld,
And from his fiery eyes there welled
Great tears of gold as liquid stones
That fell to earth amongst our bones.

But Mother-Earth she would not drink
Those Holy Tears, nor could they sink
Into her depths now choked with blood.
So lay they hard’ning in the mud.

War-wearied warriors saw, at last,
Their blessed first paradise had passed.
Repentant tears now fell upon
Those golden stones that ever shone.

“Henceforth,” they cried, “we dwell in peace!
No more the Crows of War release!
A king we choose above all thrones
And he shall keep the Weeping Stones.”

The Peace Accord they carved anon
on Meeting Stones we stand upon.
The Khanrikhan they chose to be:
Good BraveWing of the Mawh’eyri. be continued

© Bardswell Creations 2018