Wrenogal: Act II, lxiii-lxx
lxiii
He landed. All the wind had begged him not
to try, though wills were stronger than the arm
Lydoria moved through—the gale was fraught
with vigor, but could not prevent his harm.
A silence made more silent by his boots,
which crushed into the dead rock, sang him on,
and beckoned him into Jarod’s Peak’s roots:
a cave Nevgondian now looked upon.
Without a pause—he knew what he now saw
was wicked—delved into the depths below,
where no man’s goodness, and no country’s law
would save him from the evil he would know.
Decay, kept by corrupted entropy,
bestrangled everything the knight could see.
lxiv
His torch held only solace for some feet,
enough to see a step, and nothing more,
but great mosaics on the wall, replete
with detail, his lone light did poorly pour.
Draped in a kind of Shadow, all their shapes
suggested villainy of every kind.
Dark kings darkened their kingdoms in crude capes,
and base men cut what cape-cloth they could find.
Which cloak, which shroud, bled into the light’s edge,
lit here, but what it did elsewhere was known
to none. Who could say if its form could pledge
to stay there when it was left well alone?
He tested this uncanny thought, and when
the light returned, the shapes had moved again.
lxv
His fingers slipped upon his lonely light.
Curse you, Nevgondian so spurned his fear.
He touched his neck, which writhed at the fay sight,
that seemed to see vile smiles disappear.
He turned. He’d seen enough. No truth was worth
the cost of terror that it promised here;
but found no matter how wide each step’s berth,
the entrance to the cave would not draw near.
He thought he heard the laughing of a friend
behind him. Dark can speak as well as show.
And, turning back, slowly made to descend
into the depths of Jarod’s own Shadow…
How well-tailored to me is this nightmare.
The well-known laugh twisted into despair.
lxvi
The art upon the cave wall hid no more,
but showed its scenes with grandeur and with pride:
of garish plunders, won with pain and gore,
of throne-drunk traditions of regicide.
And following and leading him, the voice
of one he knew, pulled deep into the earth
the knight who made, right then, his final choice
regarding his composure in this dearth.
But kept, as always, that choice to himself.
He passed a river of gold liquid, down
past ancient books on an ancient bookshelf,
past pictures of a king whose prudent frown
allowed no discourse, past a statue, which
he swore had hands that he swore he saw twitch.
lxvii
And finally to a great bolt of cloth,
Nevgondian approached. And, last, the voice
said, “If you do not want me to be wroth,
you’ll put out that hot flame, and I’ll rejoice.”
“What am I seeing here? This darkly thing,
this lightless stretch of shadow?” “You know well
the thing you see. It has been answering
your questions since your journey downward fell.”
“Then I’m to wear your shawl. And listen close
to where you guide?” “I knew you understood!
Cut out that light, and let my care engross
you, cut a shroud, and give it a deep hood…”
Nevgondian had made his choice. The light
he sacrificed for even better sight.
lxviii
“You make me think,” it said, when he had donned
his Shroud, “of one who wore me long ago.
He also was not so easily conned,
but darkness suited him well, even so.”
The quenched torch rolled away, farther than it
would ever have in light. But now the knight
would not by firelight be warmed nor lit,
but by the lurid detail of nightlight.
“He too had plans he did not tell to me,
but I am generous! Give me a hint,
and I’ll guide where we both would want to be..
to where both glory and gold amply glint..
His name was Krrgan, and he hid beneath
the shadows of that sweet Cove of Fell Teeth..”
lxix
“I’m curious about this cove,” the eyes
Nevgondian once used swam now in black.
“This..Krrgan.. Did he leave there any prize
a good man like myself might now take back?”
“I see! The transfer of goods is quite well,
and goods thieved by one may be thieved right back,
but Krrgan did not, on fine treasures, dwell,
but on blood, and the power he might lack.
There’s one who dwells there now.. If deeds you’d call
to bear of ages yonder, bear you thence.
By killing the disgusting Wrenogal,
you’d do Krrgan a tender service hence.”
“Show me the way out of this hideout here,
and I shall see this Krrgan’s cove made clear.”
lxx
So with his plunder, Nevgondian rode
away from Jarod’s Peak. While plundered, he,
a newfound treasure of the Shadow’s, strode,
to tempt forever into villainy.
The sailors eyed him carefully. “That cloak,”
they said, “bears something that was not, before,
your visage.” But on guesses, they would choke
before they could mutter any word more.
And when outside his earshot, their captain
said, “when we’re back at port, the dinghy’s done.
Rip it to pieces, and don’t use again
the planks that made the curséd vessel run.”
“To Warponde, then to Dustan,” said the knight.
Their voyage they began in perfect night.
And Lydoria lamented their plight.