Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

SONG OF THE NINE HEROES

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:

In the vanguard of winter, a dragon’s dance

Unraveled the land, until out of the forest,

Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,

The sky unreckoned before them.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One from a garden of stone arising,

From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,

Where the heart and mind tide unquestioned

In the untapped vein of the hand.

In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined,they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One from a haven of breezes descending,

Light in the handling air

To the waving meadows, the kender’s country,

Where the grain out of smallness arises itself

To grow green and golden and green again.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, the long land’s keeping,

Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing.

Bearing a staff she came, and a burden

Of mercy and light converged in her hand:

Beating the wounds of the world, she came.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, in the moon’s shadow,

Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon

Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled

The tide of his blood, and his warrior’s hand

Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One within absences, known by departures,

The dark swordswoman at the heart of fire:

Her glories the space between words,

The cradlesong recollected in age,

Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,

By the centuries’ flight of the kingfisher over the land,

By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again

When the heart ascends into duty.

As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next in a simple light a brother to darkness,

Letting the sword hand try all subtleties,

Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts

Are pools disrupted in changing wind

He cannot see their bottom.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next the leader, half-elven, betrayed

As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,

The forests, the worlds of elves and men.

Called into bravery, but fearing for love,

And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The last from the darkness, breathing the night

Where the abstract stars hide a nest of words,

Where the body endures the wound of numbers,

Surrendered to knowledge, until, unable to bless,

His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

Joined by others they were in the telling:

A graceless girl, graced beyond graces;

A princess of seeds and saplings, called to the forest;

An ancient weaver of accidents;

Nor can we say who the story will gather.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the hear of the story.

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:

In encampments of winter, the dragon’s sleep

Has settled the land, but out of the forest,