Somewhere it was autumn. On the shore

Wind-kissed and smelling of soft salt there stood

But three alone. The sighing pines atop

The dunes were the last trees to wear their leaves.

Somewhere it was evening. Heavy clouds

Were crimson painted underneath by sun

Setting upon the other the side of both

The clouds made red, and sea emblazoned gold.

Somewhere it was somber, for the three

Who gathered there this evening came to bid

Farewell to one they loved and now had lost.

Varr lay in little state upon a boat

Rough hewn but seaworthy enough. His shield

Much battered and much sulfur-scarred rested

Beneath his feet. His armor, dented, torn

But polished once again. And in his hand

The hilt of the Black Sword, with broken blade,

And melted at the forte, but still sharp.

The Old Man drew a heavy breath, and raised

A torch that blazed the same hue as the sun.

“Here lies in death the last ennobled slain

Who death embraced for noble dying's sake

Before, and won another life more bold,

More fell, more fateful, more holy and high.

Yet this life did he even less begrudge.

He laid it down again when once again

Death came to him, without a second thought.

Their names are all a litany, fit to

Be written on the sky in script of fire

For every eye to gaze upon, in thanks.

If his name were the highest and most bright

Then who would say justice had not been done?

He saved my world. How many have there been

Of which that can be said, by anyone?

He saved more than my world. He saved as well

However many worlds would have been

Consumed within the Sulfur Carrier's hate.

He was exactly what I planned, and yet

He was more than I ever could have hoped.

He kept his word. They told him to be brave

And brave he was. They told him to hold firm

And firm he held. They called him Last-to-Flee

And even when the sky itself had fled

And earth beneath his feet had turned to run

He stood and raised his sword to strike again.

In my years I have many warriors seen.

Some measure great in strength, some in wisdom,

But there is none, in all my eons, who

Had courage that could equal nigh to his.

Let him know that his glory shall endure

As long as does my memory, and I,

Thanks to his courage, shall endure at least

Another morrow of memorial."

The Old Man passed the torch to the young Girl

Faint fireflies flickering in her tresses as

They woke into the evening. “Since before

Ages were ages have my people been

Wide wanderers among infinite worlds.

If often I have wished to find a home,

A place to put down roots, and to bear fruit,

To say, 'I am the land. The land is me,'

How oftener have I been thankful that

When danger and destruction loomed above

I could abandon everything, to melt

Into the multiverse. If other worlds

Came down in rot and ruin, what was it

To me? And yet not here. Here did I say

'No more.' Here did I plant my feet. Here did

I stare into the deepest the abyss

Could dredge to raise before my face, and I

Blinked not, but cried aloud 'You shall not pass!'

It should have been my end. Tis thanks to him

That I stand in the setting sun today.

That I can say to others 'stand your ground,'

And not be merely an example of

What happens to the foolish, stubborn ones."

She went upon her toes to pass the torch

To Shane, who held the flames above the bier

And let them taste the eventide sea breeze.

“What words are there to say? That he was strong,

That he was brave, that he his honor kept

All knew who knew him. We knew him, therefore

Shall I the memory of my brother

In blood, in battle, and in last resort

Keep not in further words, but in my deeds.

The wind all words may blow away, but deeds

Are graven in the living stone of time.

And there shall his memorial be writ.

So sayeth Shane the Champion." He laid

The torch beneath Varr's feet, upon the logs

With oil anointed, and as the flames spread

The Old Man and the Champion bent their backs

To push the boat into the rising tide.

And if it had to fight the breaking waves,

It won through with the easy mastery

That fights and wins and looks all effortless.

The flames, as they rose, blended with the sun

Behind the wind and waves, until the ship

Alone rode on a not too quiet sea

Bearing a scarlet halo into which

It gently was consumed. As does the spark

That rises on the rocket's peak devour

Its own substance to fuel its glorious light,

So soon enough there were but fragments left

That disappeared beneath the placid sea.

The three upon the shore a moment stood

In silence. Then the Old Man sighed, and it

Was too the sighing of the waves. The dark

Of his wrapped eye was one with the soft night

Now emptied quite of terrors, and his voice

Was wind among the fallen autumn leaves.

“Come, Shane. Upon the morrow there will be

Both much and mighty labor for us both.

There are halls to reraise, walls to rebuild,

Towers to reerect, swords to reforge.

A new Valhalla shall assembled be,

And at its head shall be a Champion

For all the dead in bravery to see,

To honor, learn from, and as sons to love!"

Shane turned not from the sunset as he said,

“I thank you, in good faith. When yet I lived—

So long ago it seems—and I set out

To fight for glory, young and foolish, I

Would not have dreamed to set my sights on half

The height of glory that you offer now.

But no. For death has never been the end.

Those that I left behind thought I was done

But here I stand. Where now, then, does Varr stand

Perhaps already in high battle, and

Without a shield-brother upon his back?

For there are other worlds than this—I have

Beheld them, Old Man—and who is to say

That they do not pray for a Champion?

For among infinite worlds, there must be,

Someday, somewhere, somehow, one fated to

Become the place where I behold again

Barbara's face, among the linden blooms,

When she adventures too has had, and been

The better savior of a better world

Then I could ever be. And settle there?

Perhaps. I am no soothsayer. Farewell!

Your world is saved. I go to seek for mine."

He turned to find the girl with solemn eyes

Awaiting him, and said “I cannot stay-"

“I understand," she raised a hand to take

Him by the hand, “I shall not ask you to.

But neither would I have you go without

A token to remember one you had

As much a hand in saving as did Varr."

Then like a conjurer pulling a coin

Out of the startled ear of a rude child,

She held a belt before him, woven from

Slick knotted leather, and the living twigs

Of Bittersweet, the berries red as blood

And hard as jewels, and golden crowns on each.

Shane had no words, and found he needed none.

As they along the sighing shore, away

From the Old Man left all alone, wandered

Together, he buckled and pulled it tight.

“And shall you be happy, among the trees,

Your Witchfolk will return to, by the by?"

She shook her head. “The Witchfolk don't return.

A thousand thousand worlds we have left.

Yet not a one have we returned unto.

But fret not on me, Champion. I too

Have a long journey laid before my feet.

I go to bear the tale, through all the worlds,

Of those who stood against oblivion,

To any of my people I can find,

To any folk whose ears are open yet,

To any who has dreams, and will to write."

Shane turned to look at her, concern upon

His sunset painted face. “You go alone?

I cannot leave you unprotected, let

Me travel with you, as your bodyguard.

We may as well travel together, if-"

Her laughter stopped him, and she shook her head

“I think that I shall find my way aright.

Go, Champion, and your next challenge find."

Shane sighed, and bowed, and turned away. Upon

The wind he read the message, and he knew

Delay and argument were vain. Upon

Her hand he left a sacramental kiss,

Though not for her, nor him, but for those who

Might have beheld it: fireflies, mayhaps,

For who else was there to behold? Upon

The blowing waves of grass on the first dune

He turned back to her. The sun's final ray

Fell full upon his face. He smiled at that.

Then once again he turned. He walked away.

The firefly-crowded night replaced the day.

And where he has now gone, she cannot say.