The Balinor Chronicles: The Celestial Herd
Chapter Sixty-Two: The Stallion of the Waterfall
Do not stand on my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
O I, the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in the circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do no stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
--Anonymous
When shall I be dead and rid
Of the wrong my father did?
Oh long, how long, till spade and hearse
Put to sleep my mother's curse?
--T.H. White, The Queen of Air and Darkness
-/o
Death lies on the other side of the mountains. But what remains for the one that stared death in the eye and lived? What remains for he who defeated the Pale Rider, and yet has no place among his own people?
-/o
Raiden, carefully, using the cave that he had so long ago memorized, used his pool to open a door. It was similar to the one that Arodousna and Mellifer had used and as powerful as the door of Acheates and Adonis. Except that this door would shut behind him.
At this point, Raiden, who had died to become The Stallion of the Mountain, died once again. This time, he would become The Stallion of the Waterfall, the very merging of Water and Earth and Mountain. He would rule what little he could claim as his own with the temper and passion of Fire – And he would never, ever, ever, forgive the line of the Sun, who had cast him from his home, nor the line of Night, who condemned his valley to Death and Time and Hate. And when one is rejected by Death itself, you can hold grudges for a very long time.
-/o
Raiden never looked back as he left the Valley for the last time. There was no reason to. He could not see, and there were none behind him.
-/o
The story of Raiden was forgotten, buried in legend and myth. The only tale that remained of him was caught in rhyme and prophecy. The Raiden that is spoken of is a traitor to blood and color, begrudging those who betrayed him in return. He is known as what he had become, and not what he was. Perhaps such is the curse of all heroes.
-/o
Red, Yellow, Orange, Green
Not all things are as they seem.
Blue, Indigo, Violet, Brown,
Does the Sun deserve the crown?
Black is nothing, all is white –
Right is wrong and left is right.
Sired by water, raised by flame
Who can say who is to blame?
Those who walk first follow last
Guarding secrets forgot and passed.
Blind see true and eyes will fail
But none now live who know his tale.
One of Dark who hailed the Sun
Saw them vanish one by one.
Lord of Shadow blamed for Night,
Refused to run with Herd Twilight
He shall rule beside his queen,
O'er Earth and Sea and In-Between
Ally to none, feared by all
Stallion of the Waterfall