Vengeance

by EtherealEnding

Poetry With his daughter torn away from him, our character sets out to atone for her death by killing her killer, Carnauk.

Vengeance

I

Fire and stone,

Ice to chill your bone,

So hath the Creator sewn,

Magic.

Good or rotten,

It should never be forgotten,

Of a magician's ability to kill,

With a single whimsical will.

For I have seen,

With my eyes still keen,

The slaughter,

Of my very own daughter.

And so was made my decision,

To hunt this vile magician,

Carnauk,

Summoner of Atronachs.

Yes, through fire and stone,

And ice to chill they bones,

Through these I hath sought,

With a single thrashing though:

To find Carnauk,

Summoner of Atronachs,

And atone the slaughter,

Of my beautiful daughter.

II

For there was once a day,

In which my lovely Elaine,

Was wonderfully engaged,

To a handsome sage.

And so all was well,

As there was no sign to tell of hell,

Until . . .

Until,

Upon the frozen till,

Revealed was my purpose and fate,

For alas! I was too late,

'Twas fire and stone,

And ice to chill her bones,

That struck my beautiful Elaine down,

And so evil was Carnauk's crown.

"In my quest to avenge my daughter,

Never shall I faulter,

Creator be damned!

Determination guide me in this extermination,

Of Carnauk and his carion heirs!"

III

This is what I said,

And never shall I lay down to bed,

An eternally will my hatred be fed,

Until Carnauk lies dead.

I have travelled through fire and stone,

Through blizzards that chilled m bones,

And at last his face to me was shown,

And at last was my hatchet thrown . . .

Twirling . . .

Twirling . . .

Twirling . . .

Twirling past his curling hair,

But I did not wait to see how the axe faired,

For a sword and shield must be drawn,

If ever shall I see the sweet dawn,

Of blood red vengeance.

Our battle raged long,

A beautiful steel song,

When at last he revealed his true power,

And the taste in my mouth became sour,

And in my faint breaths,

Near to my death,

Blood-soaked, I croaked,

Laughter, for aha!—I shall see Elaine!

IV

And though he be flame and stone,

Hear cold enough to chill thy bones,

Towards my head came a hand clasped stone,

And into his ice-heart was driven my blade.

Off of me, his corpse I flung,

And of Elaine I sung and sung,

Until I saw my axe to have landed so wild,

That it struck a newborn child,

Fresh from his mother,

And over him cried his brother.

Blood soaked, I croaked,

"Creator—No!—why?"

And so it came at last:

My time to die.