He heard a noise of horse and hound and sounds of two feet running.
A human stumbled to his glade, a human worn and weary
Dressed in a shredded wizard’s robe, his eyes past hope and dreary.
The magic of his birthplace gave Gervase the gift of speaking.
He hesitated not at all—ran to the wizard, squeaking,
“Hide human, hide! Hide in my tree!” he danced and pointed madly.
The wizard stared, the wizard gasped, then hid himself right gladly.
Gervase at once lay in the sun until the hunt came by him
Then like a simple lizard now he fled as they came nigh him.
And glowered in the hollow tree and hissed when they came near him
And bit a few dogs’ noses so they’d yelp and leap and fear him.
“Thrice damn that wizard!” snarled his foe. “He’s slipped our hunters neatly.
The hounds have surely been misled. They’ve lost the trail completely.“
He whipped the the dogs off of the tree and sent them homeward running
And never once suspected it was all Gervase’s cunning.
The wizard out of hiding crept. “Thrice blessing I accord you!
And is there somehow any way I can at all reward you?“
“I want to be a man like you!” Gervase replied unthinking.
“A wizard—or a man?” replied the mage who stared, unblinking.
“For I can only grant you one, the form of man, or power.
What will you choose? Choose wisely, I must leave within the hour.“
Gervase in silence sat and thought, his mind in turmoil churning.
And first the one choice thinking on, then to the other turning.
Yes, he could have the power he craved, the magic of a wizard
But who’d believe that power lived inside a lowly lizard ?
Or he could have the form of man, but what could he do in it?
And all the good he craved to do—how then could he begin it?
Within the Councils of the Wise there sits a welcome stranger
His word is sought by high and low if there is need or danger.
He gives his aid to all who ask, who need one to defend them
And every helpless creature knows he lives but to befriend them.
And though his form is very strange compared to those beside him
The mages care not for the form, but for the mind inside him.
For though he’s small, and brightly scaled, they do not see a lizard.
He’s called by all, both great and small, “Gervase, the Noble Wizard.”
He’s known by all, both great and small, Gervase the Lizard Wizard!
LOVERS UNTRUE
(Tarma: “Swordsworn”)
“I shall love you till I die!”
Talasar and Dera cry.
He swears “On my life I vow
Only death could part us now!”
She says “You are life and breath
Nothing severs us but Death!”
Lightly taken, lightly spoke,
Easy vows are easy broke.
“Come and ride awhile with me,”
Talasar says to Varee,
“Look, the moon is rising high,
Countless stars bestrew the sky.
Come, or all the hours are flown
It’s no night to lie alone.”
This the one who lately cried
That he’d love until he died.
“Kevin, do you think me fair?”
Dera smiles, shakes back her hair.
“I have long admired you—
Come, the night is young and new
And the wind is growing cold—
I would see if you are bold—”
Is this she who vowed till death
Talasar was life and breath?
Comes the dawn—beneath a tree
Talasar lies with Varee.
But look—who should now draw near—
Dera and her Kevin-dear
He sees her—and she sees him—
Oh confusion! Silence grim!
Till he sighs, and shakes his head—(pregnant
pause)
“Well, I guess we must be dead!”
THE LESLAC VERSION
(Leslac and Tarma)
Leslac:
The warrior and the sorceress rode into Viden-town
For they had heard of evil there and meant to bring it down
An overlord with iron hand who ruled his folk with fear—
Tarma : Bartender, shut that minstrel up and bring another beer.
L: The warrior and the sorceress went searching high and low
T: That isn’t true, I tell you, and I think that I should know!
L:
They meant to find the tyrant who’d betrayed his people’s trust
And bring the monster’s power and pride to tumble in the dust.
T: Like Hell! What we were looking for was wine and bread and meat!
L: They found him in the tavern and they challenged him to fight.
T: We found him holding up the bar, drunk as a pig, that night.
L: The tyrant laughed and mocked at them, with vile words and base.
T: He tripped on Warrl’s tail, then took exception to my face.
L: The warrior was too wise for him; his blade clove only air!
T: He swung, I ducked, he lunged—and then he tripped over a chair.
L: With but a single blow the warrior brought him to his doom!
T: About that time he turned around—I got him with a broom.
L: And in a breath the deed was done! The tyrant-lord lay dead!
T: I didn’t mean for him to hit the fire iron with his head!
L:
The wife that he had kept shut up they freed and set on high
And Viden-town beneath her hand contentedly did lie.
T:
I went to find his next-of-kin and to the girl confess—
“Your husband wasn’t much before, but now he’s rather less—”
T:
“He was a drunken sot, and I’ll be better off,” she said.
“And while I can’t admit it, I’m not sorry that he’s dead.
So here’s a little something—but you’d best be on your way—
I’ll claim it was an accident if you’ll just leave today.“
L:
In triumph out of Viden-town the partners rode again
To find another tyrant and to clean him from his den—
The scourge of evil and the answer to a desperate prayer!“
T: Don’t you believe a word of it—I know, ‘cause I was there!
WIND’S FOUR QUARTERS
(Tarma: “Swordsworn”)
CH: Wind’s four quarters, air and fire
Earth and water, hear my desire
Grant my plea who stands alone—
Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone.
Eastern wind blow clear, blow clean,
Cleanse my body of its pain,
Cleanse my mind of what I’ve seen,
Cleanse my honor of its stain.
Maid whose love has never ceased
Bring me healing from the East.
Southern wind blow hot, blow hard,
Fan my courage to a flame,
Southern wind be guide and guard,
Add your bravery to my name.
Let my will and yours be twinned,
Warrior of the Southern wind.
Western wind, stark, blow strong,
Grant me arm and mind of steel
On a road both hard and long.
Mother, hear me where I kneel.
Let no weakness on my quest
Hinder me, wind of the West.
Northern wind blow cruel, blow cold,
Sheathe my aching heart in ice,
Armor ‘round my soul enfold.
Crone I need not call you twice.
To my foes bring the cold of death!
Chill me, North wind’s frozen breath.
THE SWORDLADY, OR: “THAT SONG”
(Leslac)
Swordlady, valiant, no matter the foe,
Into the battle you fearlessly go—
Boldly you ride out beyond map and chart—
Why are you frightened to open your heart?
Swordlady, lady of consummate skill,
Lady of prowess, of strength and of will,
Swordlady, lady of cold ice and steel,
Why will you never admit that you feel?
Swordlady, mistress of all arts of war,
Wise in the ways of all strategic lore,
You fear no creature below or above,
Why do you shrink from the soft touch of love?
Swordlady, brave to endure wounds and pain,
Plunging through lightning, through thunder and
rain,
Flinching from nothing, so high is your pride,
Why then pretend you hold nothing inside?
Swordlady, somewhere within you is hid
A creature of feeling that no vow can rid,
A woman—a girl, with a heart soft and warm,
No matter the brutal deeds that you perform.
Swordlady, somewhere inside of you deep,
Cowers the maiden that you think asleep,
Frozen within you, in ice shrouded womb
That you can only pretend is a tomb.
Swordlady, all of the vows you have made
Can never make your heart die as you’ve bade.
Swordlady, after the winter comes spring;
One day your heart will awaken and sing.
Swordlady, one day there must come a man
Who shall lift from you this self-imposed ban,
Thawing the ice that’s enshrouded your soul,
On that day swordlady, you shall be whole.
SHIN‘A’IN WARSONG
(The old tradition holds that the Shin‘a’in—now forty-odd Clans in all—originally came from four: the Tale‘sedrin (Children of the Hawk), the Liha’- irden (Deer-sibs), the Vuysher‘edras (Brothers of the Wolves), and the Pretera’sedrin (the Children of the Grasscats). Hence the monumental seriousness of the threat of declaring Tale‘sedrin a dead Clan in Oathbound.)
Gold the dawn-sun spreads his wings—
Follow where the East-wind sings,
Brothers, sisters, side by side,
To defend our home we ride!
Eyes of Hawks the borders see—
Watchers, guard it carefully
Let no stranger pass it by—
Children of the Hawk, now fly!
CH: Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone,
Help us keep this land our own.
Rover, Guardian, Hunter, Guide,
With us now forever ride.
Speed of deer, oh grant to these—
Swift to warn of enemies,
Fleeter far than any foe—
Deer-child, to the border go!
Cunning as the Wolf-pack now,
To no overlord we bow!
Lest some lord our freedom blight,
Brothers of the Wolves, we fight!
Brave, the great Cat guards his lair,
Teeth to rend and claws to tear.
Lead the battle, first to last,
Children of the Cat, hold fast!
Hawk and Cat, and Wolf and Deer,
Keep the plains now safe from fear,
Brothers, sisters, side by side,
To defend our home, we ride!
SHIN‘A’IN SONG OF THE SEASONS
(Although Tarma seldom mentioned the fact, her people have a four-aspected male deity to compliment the female. This song gives Him equal time with Her.)
The East wind is calling, so come ride away,
Come follow the Rover into the new day,
Come follow the Maiden, the Dark Moon, with
me,
The new year’s beginning, come ride out and see.
Come follow the Rover out onto the plains,
Come greet the new life under sweet, singing
rains,
Come follow the Maiden beneath vernal showers,
For where her feet passed you will find fra
grant flowers.
The South wind, oh hear it, we ride to the call
We follow the Guardian, the Lord of us all,
We follow the Warrior, the strong to defend,
The New Moon to fighters is ever a friend.
With summer comes fighting, with summer, our
foes;
And how we must thwart them the Guardian
knows.
The Warrior will give them no path but retreat,
The Warrior and Guardian will bring their defeat.
Come follow the West wind, the wind of the
fall,
The Mother will cast her cloak over us all.
Come follow the Hunter out onto the plain,
Return to the Clan with the prey we have slain.
For now comes the autumn, the time of the
West,
The season of Full Moon, of harvest, then rest.
So take from Her hands all the fruits of the
fields,
And thank Him for all that the autumn-hunt
yields.
The North wind, the cold wind, the wind of the
snow,
Tells us, it is time winter pastures to go.
The Guide knows the path, and the Crone shows
us how—
The Old Moon, and time for returning is now.
And if, with the winter, should come the last
breath,
And riding, we ride out of life into death,
The Wise One, the Old Moon, will ease our last
load,
The Guide will be waiting to show the new road.
THREES
(Leslac)
Deep into the stony hills, miles from keep or
hold
A troupe of guards comes riding with a lady and
her gold—
Riding in the center shrouded in her cloak of fur,
Companioned by a maiden and a toothless, aged
cur.
Three things see no end, a flower blighted ere it
bloomed,
A message that was wasted, and a journey that
is doomed.
One among the guardsmen has a shifting, rest-
less eye,
And as they ride he scans the hills that rise
against the sky.
He wears both sword and bracelet worth more
than he can afford,
And hidden in his baggage is a heavy, secret
hoard.
Of three things be wary, of a feather on a cat,
The shepherd eating mutton and the guardsman
that is fat.
From ambush, bandits screaming charge the
packtrain and its prize,
And all but four within the train are taken by
surprise,
And all but four are cut down as a woodsman
fells a log,
The guardsman, and the lady, and the maiden,
and the dog,
Three things know a secret—first, the lady in a
dream,
The dog that barks no warning and the maid who
does not scream.
Then off the lady pulls her cloak, in armor she
is clad,
Her sword is out and ready, and her eyes are
fierce and glad.
The maiden gestures briefly and the dog’s a cur
no more—
A wolf, sword-maid and sorceress now face the
bandit corps!
Three things never anger or you will not live for
long,
A wolf with cubs, a man with power and a wom-
an’s sense of wrong.
The bandits growl a challenge and the lady only
grins,
The sorceress bows mockingly, and then the fight
begins!
When it ends there are but four left standing
from that horde
The witch, the wolf, the traitor, and the woman
with the sword!
Three things never trust in, the maiden sworn
as “pure,”
The vows a king has given and the ambush that
is “sure.”
They strip the traitor naked and they whip him
on his way
Into the barren hillsides like the folks he used
to slay.
They take a thorough vengeance for the women
he cut down
And then they mount their horses and they jour-
ney back to town.
Three things trust and cherish well, the horse
on which you ride,
The beast that guards and watches and the sis
ter at your side!
For further information on these songs, send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to:FIREBIRD ARTS AND MUSIC
(formerly Off-Centaur Publications)
PO Box 424
El Cerrito, CA 94530