|
|
|
|
|
|
Amazon.com, 
Amazon.co.uk, 
Amazon.de or 
Amazon.ca
|
 The Ride by Justin M Frazier Clouds, like a great, dark dragon, covered the sky. The lone rider glanced up for just a moment. Again he questioned his judgement, asking why Then clucked to a lope against the torrent. He had forgotten how many years it had been Since the fateful day awoke he with the plan. Forgotten too were all the lands he had seen But remembered were his killings to the man. The idea was so simple, a child could've thunk it, But opposition was fierce from the start. Many a noble had tried to debunk it, He knew the fear held in their hearts. A simple raid, just a day or two gone Had become his lifelong obsession. He and his compadres should not have been wrong, But none were left to hear his confession. He and his fellows had joined their thoughts To attack their rival state. What a price these men paid when they bought Their death, their shame, their fate. The evil that men do lives beyond their life, A traitor's story is told even after his death. A good man, honest and true, has strife, And oft just a blank stone is left. Over one hundred men had been his charge Their lives under his direction. His eight compatriots were likewise large And none known for their indiscretion. Bran the Bold had he been titled once, Though Bereft had since 'come his surname. He stayed not in towns for fear of the blunts And equally, fear of his shame. Thomas of Hains had been his lieutenant The man was cut down like a straw. His last view had been his own standard's pennant As his enemy thrust it down his maw. Cormac and Fergus, the twins of the north, Valiant and brave were they. Their clansmen held the enemy at Forth, But they were lost in the sway. Geraint was second cousin to Bran But not made of soldiering metal. An arrow braced his heart to the sand, His death like a fallen petal. Uther, Peredur and Sualtam were there, But had not been at arms an hour When their blood comingled with all those there As the rocks fell like a spring shower. Finn was known for his strength of a giant, But even the mighty fell, He never surrendered, was never compliant, He heard the ringing of death's bell. Trapped had they been in a mountain pass, With hundreds of warriors above them. The exits sealed by man's avalanche While death fell and flew in upon them. Bran the Bold's enemies had slowly crept in, Killing from the fallen rock. The losses unequal in count of men, And the enemy held them in shock. A perfect plan had been laid to waste, But Bran could never be found. Victory he would never again taste And Bran began to spiral down. Bran's life was the only one that was spared Amongst the thousand men. He carried with him the shame and despair And lived on civilization's hem. Around his neck like an albatross He carried the thousand deaths. His enemy had suffered unequal loss, He mourned with every breath. Ten years had passed since that fateful day And his visage much had changed. He found himself on the homeward way Yet never was he harangued. He tarried near his former home, Long since raped and abused. His previous peasants were all but gone, And a blight, it seemed, had been loosed. A neighboring Baron had a kindly heart, So Bran the Bereft went thither. He hoped somehow to make a new start And to this man he'd gladly be tethered. His sword arm was weak, for he refused to fight But his back and his legs were strong. He would volunteer to work in the sun's harsh light And prayed for atonement of wrong. He arrived at the stronghold of the prosperous lord And begged for an audience brief. As he still rode, he was known as a fallen lord, And given this small relief. The baron upheld him and cleaned him up, But the years had taken their toll. Even with Bran's prayer before the sup The Baron guessed not his role. The Baron took Bran on as a hunter, A skill at which he was adept. He hunted for deer from winter to summer And proved he was not inept. The Baron grew fond of Bran the Bereft, Though he carried Thomas' name. He hid from his life in what had been left And hoped to hide from the shame. One day as he strolled behind the barn He heard two stablemen talking. Their words filled his head with alarm And sent his heart a-balking. His new lord had been one of his detractors In the planning of the fateful raid. To his enemy, the Baron as benefactor Gave information in aid. The Baron had seized all of Bran's holdings, And pillaged the family keep. Bran knew right away the plan he was molding, The Baron would die in his sleep. But the more Bran considered the options He came to a new, better plan. He would leave the holdings, claiming distraction, And return with vengeance again. Eleven years had passed since Bran was ousted But soon he would have his due. Bran and the Baron never had jousted Neither physically nor politically, true. But somehow this most generous man Had betrayed him to his hated. Bran served him now, lived on his land, This quandary he debated. Finally he left, amidst tears and gifts Bestowed by the hated man. He was leaving here Bran the Bereft, But would return Bran the Bold again. He went north, to the home of the twins, Where Cormac and Fergus were loved. Their deaths had always been blamed on him, But he must start were push had turned shove. He traveled to their father's house, And presented himself as a servant. He worked in the shadows, quiet as a mouse, Awaiting his chance to vent. After three months he cornered the Father, A man as big as a bear. Bran bravely offered his head as fodder If only the man would hear. The Father was not inclined to allow The murderer of his only sons To speak a word, a sound of how The boys were neath rocks in tons Finally the Father allowed Bran's petition And earnestly Bran reported The way things went and when the mission Crumbled and the story distorted. The Father listened with all intent Of giving the man his fair. The Father grew outraged as the story went, And he prickled up all his hair. The Father agreed with Bran the Bold, The Baron must be brought down. For the Death of the Thousand had not grown old, And was remembered in every town. The Father left Bran at his estate, to train And strengthen his body. So that upon the King's joyful return Bran the Bold would be ready. The Father left and visited other kings, In main, the Fathers of the Fallen. They raised their armies and prepared their stings, All could hear vengeance's calling. An army as strong as Bran's long ago, Marched south, and into the fray. The army's strength would definitely show, And no one got into their way. They marched with a single purpose in mind, All knew and had volunteered. They knew the story and counted the time Till the Baron's death would be cheered. The army surrounded the Baron's land, Encircling him from afar. The Baron prepared his best soldier hands, And readied them for the war. He knew not why these men attacked, But knew he could hold out. He studied them to discover what they lacked, But "Nothing" was the only report. Bran's armies began to tighten their grip, Lessening the circle's width. The Baron's resolve began to slip, And the only out seemed death. Small battles were fought as the Baron tested The strength of his enemy's resolve. In every test, his men were bested And ran back like crying dogs. When finally the noose was tight, Bran revealed himself to them. He led the charge into the night And vanquished the Baron's men Those who had knowledge of the crime Were hung where the Baron could see. But the Baron stayed hidden inside His keep, to come out never, said he. But the tactic Bran chose for his men Had pushed all the peasants within. The Baron's stores of meat and grain Were starting to grow very thin. The Baron's peasants started to leave And the Baron just let them go. He took all his food and hid in the eaves, Hoping it was best to do so. When everyone had left the noble, Bran himself strode to the fore. He carried his claymore like a bauble, And walked up to the keep's door. The Baron accepted Bran's challenge to him And came out in the open for combat. Bran sliced him in two, as if on a whim And it ended as quickly as that. Bran's return was rejoiced throughout the land His hero's welcome had come. But the festivities were tempered by his own hand When he spoke of his loved ones gone. Bran took over the dead Baron's world, And in time, a good, strong King. Around him many legends were whirled, And he became their everything. Long was his reign, and prosperous, too, Again he was Bran the Bold. More battles he fought, more enemies slew, And he died when he was very old.
Copyright © 2002 Justin M Frazier, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines |
Copyright © 1999 - 2004 sffworld.com