Every year Companions Choose, as they have done before,
The Chosen come with shining hopes to learn the Herald's lore.
And every year the Heralds sigh, and give the same advice-
"All those who would hold Magic's Power must then pay Magic's Price."
Oh there was danger in the North-That's all that Vanyel knew.
An enemy of power dark sought Heralds out-then slew.
But only those with Magic's Gift were slain by silent rage-
Till Vanyel of them all was left the only Herald-Mage.
Yes, from the North the danger came, beyond the Border far-
The Forest did not stay Dark Death, nor did the mountains bar.
And Vanyel cried-"we die, my liege, and know not why nor where!
So send me North my King, that I may find the answers there!"
Then North went Vanyel -not alone, though 'twas of little aid
A Bard was like to be to him; and Stefen was afraid-
He feared that he would fail the quest, a burden prove to be-
Dared not let Vanyel go alone to face dark sorcery.
So out beyond the Border there, beyond the forest tall,
Into the mountains deep they went that stood an icy wall-
To find the wall had cracked and found there was a passage new,
A path clean cut that winding ran a level course and true.
This path was wrought by mage craft; Vanyel knew that when he saw
The mountains hewn by power alone, a power he felt with awe-
But to what purpose? Something moved beyond them on the trail;
They watched and hid-and what they found there turned them cold and pale.
An army moved in single file, by magic cloaked and hid-
An army moved on Valdemar that marched as they were bid-
A darker force than weaponry controlled the men and place,
For Vanyel looked-and Vanyel knew an ancient evil's face.
Then Vanyel turned to Stefen, and he told the Bard to ride
To warn the folk of Valdemar-"They call me 'Magic's Pride.'
It's time I earned the name-now go! I'll hold this army back.
Until the arms of Valdemar can counter their attack."
So Stefen rode, and so it is no living tongue can tell
How Vanyel fought, nor what he wrought, nor how the Herald fell.
The Army came-but not in time to save the Herald-Mage,
Although the pass was scorched and cracked by magic power's rage.
They fought the Dark Ones back although they came on wave by wave.
No trace they found of Vanyel, nor of his Companion brave-
They only found the focus-stone, the gift of Stefen's hand-
Now blackened, burned, and shattered by the power that saved their land.
They only found the foemen who into the woods had fled
And each one by unseen, uncanny powers now lay dead.
As if the Forest had somehow bestirred itself that day-
Had Vanyel with his dying breath commanded trees to slay?
And still the forest of the North guards Valdemar from harm-
For Vanyel's dying curse is stronger far than mortal arm.
And every year the Chosen come, despite the old advice-
"All those who would be Magic's Pride must then pay Magic's Price."
The Chosen come with shining hopes to learn the Herald's lore.
And every year the Heralds sigh, and give the same advice-
"All those who would hold Magic's Power must then pay Magic's Price."
Oh there was danger in the North-That's all that Vanyel knew.
An enemy of power dark sought Heralds out-then slew.
But only those with Magic's Gift were slain by silent rage-
Till Vanyel of them all was left the only Herald-Mage.
Yes, from the North the danger came, beyond the Border far-
The Forest did not stay Dark Death, nor did the mountains bar.
And Vanyel cried-"we die, my liege, and know not why nor where!
So send me North my King, that I may find the answers there!"
Then North went Vanyel -not alone, though 'twas of little aid
A Bard was like to be to him; and Stefen was afraid-
He feared that he would fail the quest, a burden prove to be-
Dared not let Vanyel go alone to face dark sorcery.
So out beyond the Border there, beyond the forest tall,
Into the mountains deep they went that stood an icy wall-
To find the wall had cracked and found there was a passage new,
A path clean cut that winding ran a level course and true.
This path was wrought by mage craft; Vanyel knew that when he saw
The mountains hewn by power alone, a power he felt with awe-
But to what purpose? Something moved beyond them on the trail;
They watched and hid-and what they found there turned them cold and pale.
An army moved in single file, by magic cloaked and hid-
An army moved on Valdemar that marched as they were bid-
A darker force than weaponry controlled the men and place,
For Vanyel looked-and Vanyel knew an ancient evil's face.
Then Vanyel turned to Stefen, and he told the Bard to ride
To warn the folk of Valdemar-"They call me 'Magic's Pride.'
It's time I earned the name-now go! I'll hold this army back.
Until the arms of Valdemar can counter their attack."
So Stefen rode, and so it is no living tongue can tell
How Vanyel fought, nor what he wrought, nor how the Herald fell.
The Army came-but not in time to save the Herald-Mage,
Although the pass was scorched and cracked by magic power's rage.
They fought the Dark Ones back although they came on wave by wave.
No trace they found of Vanyel, nor of his Companion brave-
They only found the focus-stone, the gift of Stefen's hand-
Now blackened, burned, and shattered by the power that saved their land.
They only found the foemen who into the woods had fled
And each one by unseen, uncanny powers now lay dead.
As if the Forest had somehow bestirred itself that day-
Had Vanyel with his dying breath commanded trees to slay?
And still the forest of the North guards Valdemar from harm-
For Vanyel's dying curse is stronger far than mortal arm.
And every year the Chosen come, despite the old advice-
"All those who would be Magic's Pride must then pay Magic's Price."