"Explain why this was found in your quarters Talon" the general demanded.
I kept myself unnoticed, Talon was in deep trouble, very deep trouble, but he didn't bow his head and apologize and beg for mercy, he looked the captain strait in the eyes and grabbed the booked back.
"I was in my quarters because I liked what was written and much of it is true."
The captain growled at Talon, little good that would do, you see both me and Talon were actors before all this war started and we've faced some tough crowds, the captain to the both of us was just a small pain in the tail. The captain lunged at Talon and ended up landing face first on the floor. I smiled to myself, the captain was at the disadvantage and I knew not even the Overlord could make him burn that book he so loved. It was a few rounds later that the captain gave up and said he was going to charge talon with treason. Talon just smiled and slammed the door on captains' face.
"Think he's actually going to do that Azriel?" he asked with a slight bit of worry.
"Probably, you really pissed him off and we were suppose to burn all of those books"
"I did that to a point, you know me, I wont waste a good book be it saurian duck or human, especially if it has a universal truth to it."
"I know, I just don't want them to kill you just yet, that's my job and you still owe me money"
"You could save them the effort, I know you can rip off a head with those claws of yours, I've seen you do it"
"They don't know that and they aren't going to, some things should just remain our secret"
"True enough, care to hear what I'm putting my life on the line for?"
"Just a little bit, from that I'll make my judgment"
"Fair enough" Talon replied as he flipped through the book.
"Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed though the sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Dunk with fatigue: deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.---
Dim trough the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind that wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes withering in his face,
His hanging face, like a devils sick of sin,
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitten as the crud
Of vile, incurable sores on the innocent tongues, ---
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory.
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori."
"That's deep, and true, brings back the memories of the battles we've been trough, but what dose 'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori' mean?
"It's Latin for one thing and the translation means 'it is sweet and becoming to die for ones country' the poem it's self is called 'DULCE ET DECORUM EST' and it was written by a human called Wilfred Owen."
"Any other interesting poems in there?" I asked, I could see why he kept it, it made much sense.
"All of them are interesting Azriel, but if you want another, this one is called 'The Night-March', it's by a human called Herman Melville
"With banners furled, and clarions mute.
An army passed in the night;
And Beaming spears and helms salute
The dark with bright.
In silence deep the legions stream,
With open ranks, in order true;
Over boundless plains they stream and gleam ---
No chief in view!
Afar, in twinkling distance lost,
(So legends tell) he lonely true;
And back through all that shining host
His mandate sends"
"You're sure that these poems were done by humans? They sound more saurian to me"
"Very much so, it was from the pile of books we were suppose to burn"
I couldn't help smile now, Talon may be hard headed but he knows true value in something no matter what others may say, it was a pity he's willing to die for it.
It was a late evening when Talon was brought before the Overlord to answer to the charges placed on him; I was on looking not because I wanted to but because our friendship demanded it. The Overlord seem to tower above him and yet he did not kneel nor plead for mercy, only looked him strait in the eyes and spoke.
"Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear;
Of his strange language all I knew
Is, there is not a word of fear.
"Before you read the charges Lord Dragaunus, Can you possibly understand what that means?"
"Silence!"
"No, not until you answer my question or are you scared that you can't?"
"It's all gibberish, it has no meaning, they're simply words"
"Words my Lord have changed they way a world looks at things, how an empire sees it's self and how others see it. Those words are an art; they hold more meaning then the orders you gave to burn them. I guess it takes someone raised on the arts to understand true art"
With those words he tossed the book in my direction and walked willingly up into the sights of the executioner. "I may be guilty of treason but at least I fallow what I believe in instead of obeying a tyrants orders"
They shot him without regret, they said he was insane, but when I picked up that book I saw why my friend once did see, a true work of art worth more then his own life. Talon may have been a fool at times but he was braver then I, if it had been me, I'd have burnt the book as I was told instead of giving my life to preserve it.
After Talons death I chose to become and out cast and outlaw, preserving books and other works of art, either human, saurian or duck, that were ordered to be destroyed. I do it because Talon was right, art holds more meaning then a tyrants orders. One day I hope I could share these with a new generation a generation I could teach how to appreciate all the forbidden treasures my library holds.
Title: Death stands above me. by Walter Savage Landor