A la Node

6 – The Clay and the Storm

Thunder rolled and rain beat down
the humid air began to stir
and gathered they, of ring and crown
when lightning stuck that rocky spur.

Climbed they, the mountain’s flank
under clouds ominous and dark
armored black and fierce their rank
marched they under heavens spark.

The stony peak gave no shelter
nor comfort to the blank-faced men
who, sweaty, withstood the welter
and heat of summer’s thunderous din.

And among them strode a knight
white robes aloft on wind
who held against the dark, a light
that made the shadows dance and bend.

From the roiling clouds like fate
a killing line of argent light
fell like lightning hammered straight
and took from them their sight.

No man fell, no man turned his face
and such was this blinding flash
no man saw the knight leave his place,
but all there knew the smell of ash.

Blindly all there found their way
to the steaming spot of earth
wherein the hands sought occult clay
and found what storm had given birth.

Not clay, not ash, not blood
a child lay in that fractured hole
and men who braved the fire and flood
found fear invade their soul.

The child was raised apart from men
in a temple on a hill
and educated in the price of sin
by visitors of arcane skill.

He never spoke, though he understood
the words of those who taught
and when they withdrew into the wood
none yet knew his heart or thought.

But ever teach the boy they did
until a storm came to that land,
thunder moved the hills and slid
the temple down like sand.

Sought they the boy in falling rain
in hail and vicious wind
no sign of him for all their pain
would any quarter lend.

When every hand and every magic failed
when in the darkness hope had died
when all their mighty hearts had quailed
unseen from the storm a boy did ride.

He knew now well the price of sin,
the cost of seeking power
the silent boy became a man within
knew even potent men could cower.

Through fertile fields and hills
the roads then led him south
birds filled the air with their trills,
entranced, a song escaped his mouth.

He passed by fields pale with drought
heard the farmer plea for rain
he let wind erase his doubt
and storm clouds moved across the plain.

In a town of inns and sewers
at last he came to rest
among the bakers and the brewers
who watched lightning in the west.

There a man who by murder did live
was struck down from a clear blue sky
no help did the watching boy give
who quiet and grim, watched him die.

In town after town in that harsh land
when justice caught men unaware
a young man would be close at hand
his eyes a distant troubling stare.

Soon a Duke of those hills did sense
as his men died in their odious work
that an enemy strode his demesne
and death in storm clouds seemed to lurk.

He hired magic and horses and steel
and called free men to lend their hands
but those he had ground beneath his heel
found strength to resist demands.

The free and the proud stood fast
as a man on a horse rode ahead
with a storm at his back rising vast
the duke stood firm in his dread.

Magic ancient and evil unfurled
thunder struck deep in each soul
magicians were struck down and hurled
into storm clouds blacker than coal.

Sinners fell to the fire from the sky
til the Duke stood alone in the gale
and the man with the storm in his eye
heard men begin to sing out his tale.

There was no pity nor joy
as the Duke’s blood flowed out in the rain
in the eye of the storm was a boy
who knew the price of the sin was the pain.

But the free men sang out his glory
and begged him the castle to take
to continue the miraculous story
the peace found in a thunderstorm’s wake.

With triumph came the needs of a nation
the dire and petty withal
and those who sought power and station
served the most ardent of all.

Those who had stood against plunder
now called down the lightning on sin
and pled with the man who knew thunder
to destroy before evil could begin.

Worse were the men who were sure
of justice and rightness and light
who would rule for the cause of the pure
who would kill to prove they were right.

Magic they courted like a suitor
sought beyond mere storms for a key
the man of the storm became tutor
convinced them of what he could see.

The journey took all of the best
who would seek the powers of life
all knew that death takes many who quest
and all held such power worthy of strife.

They fought through fire and flood
for the secrets beyond the black storm
they gladly gave of their blood
to find that which would mortals transform.

The clay of the gods, they had been told
to fashion as weapons or men
the blood of the gods shines gold
gives life eternal, cures sin.

These treasures, more, soon in hand
now thunder rolled and rain beat down
on this forsaken crag in this forgotten land
where gathered they, of ring and crown.

Climbed they, the mountain’s flank
under clouds ominous and dark
armored black and fierce their rank
marched they under heavens spark.