The Epic of Solemnon XIII


All was naught. Then, in a gasp,

Life came bursting back.

Solemnon opened up his eyes,

A barest, tiny crack.


He felt himself upon a bed,

And slowly looked around,

Tapestried and simple walls,

And tiles for the ground.


He sat up slow. Oh how weak!

He felt himself to be.

Where was his sword, his armored shield?

And then the memory-


The memory of all before,

The storming River Quirth,

The Traitor Carver and the ship,

Then water. Cold. Then Dearth.


A moment he lamented,

His sword and shield lost,

Amongst the stormy, greedy waves,

They had nearly crossed.


What of Thump? Of Everett?

Of the sorrowed King?

Of the Quest? And the rest?

What of anything?


His bare feet found the chilly floor.

He stood though faint and weak.

He padded careful ‘cross the floor.

His answers he would seek.


In his simple tunic,

Solemnon wandered free,

Down spiral stairs, trough corridors,

In silence eerily.


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