Erdan The Humble.

in #poetry7 years ago (edited)

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Erdan sat among the stars tonight. The moon bathed him in its’ full bellied light. Past the wrinkled silhouette, stands the great mountains, and the city of his home, where his destiny he just met. Resting comfortably across his silken legs, a great gift to smite the coming dregs. A powerful staff it is, lined in bright blue lightning against an ashen burnt maple. Topped with a great emerald, it stands to all as Erdan’s staple. Hours now sitting there, contemplating the needs of the land for which he so cares. “With your last earthly breath, you shall swallow death.” The whispers caress his ears, cheeks stained with mud and tears. ‘Years I’ve spent within the spire, knowledge then and now, my only desire’ he screams inside, for outside he must remain stoic, the gathering around thinks him nothing but heroic. “Aye I seen ‘em with th’ staff a’glowin, to the dragon of east best be knowin,” Erdan glanced among-st the newcomers a boy sits, no more aged than a few summers. A wistful look illuminated by the moon, tells him, the boy has seen too much, too soon. A flash in Erdan’s mind, briefly causing him to become blind. “I’ll show you what’s behind, for you seem to need to find. It’ll not be soft and kind, if your time is wasted sitting here mentally confined.”

Three days of ascending, then twice that descending. Erdan’s resolve begins it’s mending. ‘No more pretending, nay! It is I that these poor are depending.’ His face matching his thoughts, Fires line the inside of his eyes, ‘This is the day I declare no more innocence dies!’ In response his staff flares briefly and brilliantly, as though it too, shares in the litany. Night once again swallows the land, turning deep gray, the blood red sand. A sharp stab against his left hand reminds him of the amulet. Forged from an angel’s form and a devil’s horn taking it was forlorn. Master Ker with her silver streaked black hair. “Take this Erdan when you travel far from here, it is your burden now, you must bare.” The very last words from his mentor, still leave his mouth dry and sore. ‘I had so much to say, how could I leave her that way?’ Often these days, more now than before his self hatred would come to shore.

A fortnight since he left the providence, his destination comes to view. A deep orange hue off in the distance, reminded him of his persistence. The wind here screamed, as though the dead weren’t just dreamed. His tunic, now dusty and dirty was beginning to rip at the seams. The oppressive feelings were teeming with anticipation. ‘Was this a wise decision? Or the act of attrition by the gods?’ Doubts leapt from his head to heart, should I simply depart? ‘Am I just walking into my doom, to be maimed and ripped apart?’ Hands now shaking, his resolution now playing the part of persecution. “I have been with you until now, To your fear I’ll not allow you to bow!!” That voice piercing even the wind! He couldn’t help but to grin. Into the dragon’s cave, one last farewell wave. “This is for the world! May it be saved!”