Somewhere, amongst the ruins of ruins

The legions of dishonored dead, hissing

As might an immolated corpse upon

A burning ship, at cold saltwater's touch,

With agonizing slowness flung themselves

Against the hated company who held,

Though pitifully few, the ramparts still,

Though for ramparts they had only the stairs,

And for stronghold only the council hall.

Somewhere the night was burning. Acrid smoke

Clung sluggishly to edges of the air.

It formed no clouds or coils. It was not seen

Save as a far-off dinginess, as if

The world were dirty, grey, and not quite there,

But it was felt, as vertigo and sweat

Both gritty and oily. And it was smelt:

Like long-dead shellfish in the fine beach mud,

Like burning styrofoam and melting glass,

Like rotting ashes in the gutted wreck

Of a high hall burned down ages ago.

The aura of it lay on everything.

Somewhere it was pure war. Here life itself

In person of the still-heroic dead

Wrestled against black death and nothingness.

And life was not having the upper hand.

As do red ants, about a lizard's mouth

That dies of thirst in colorado wastes,

Jostle and swarm, so did the undead hordes

Of soot, hissing their hate venomously,

Grope toward the few defenders none could reach

Save for the foremost few. And these could strike

But once each ere they were cut down and crushed.

But once each was enough. Lief Fatherless

Went down bleeding all down his narrow face.

Torg the Lucky, luck all run out, was pierced

From breast to backbone, spine split and severed.

Heath Finder-of-Rich-Land with mighty shout

Bore down the stairs, his body the shield wall

Making his foes his bludgeons, as a mote

Of snow upon the slopes bears down the rest

Into an avalanche unstoppable,

Even as his blood washed their rusty blades.

And one by one fell all the rest, until

But two were left, holding the very door.

Somewhere Varr Last-to-Flee looked up and saw

A heavy hopeless sky, and framed thereon

The Sulfur Carrier, patient, grinning,

And brimming with malice. As back to back

With Klau the Berserker he stood, he growled,

“We cannot hold. We need a bulwark, and

We need it now. Flesh, however noble,

Is no fit substitute for solid stone."

“And solid stone we had," Klau shouted back,

Splitting one soot in half like kindling wood,

“Much good it did us! Where now will we get

Another wall? I can't repair again

This stronghold." Varr ducked underneath a spear

With snarls thrust at his face, and slashed across

The three soot foremost. As they toppled back

He shouted, “If you did repair this place,

With what did you repair it?" Klau locked hilts

With a dead ashen hulk that hissed a draught 

Of smoke and rotten eggs straight in his face

Until the black sword shore its rusty blade

Clean through, and clove the soot head from body,

And said, “I took loose stones from slopes above.

But what good does that-" But Varr shouted “Stand!

But stand your ground three minutes, Berserker,

And I may give you victory hails yet!"

Varr turned and scrambled up the jagged rocks,

His shield cast aside, his sword clenched in

His teeth, his mouth choked with the taste of blood

And oil and steel and bitter sulfur grit.

He hauled and kicked his way up the rock face

Until he stood above the hall. Meanwhile

Klau like a bramble forest shaken by

A hurricane, with oversized sword ripped

The air and anything that it contained,

Shredding in mid-stride any soot that came

Near to the topmost stair by but a pace.

And if he felt the wounds that flashed across

His narrow chest, his whirling arms, his face

Scored with both sweat and blood, he turned his ire

On his pain and his dead enemies both

And with them both for fuel so stoked his rage

So that like red firelight on chimney's lip

His eyes shone red, and like a thunderhead

Just boiling over he both laughed and roared

So that between the laughter and the roar

There was no seam. But Varr his back turned to

The battle, and the loose and jagged stone

That was the mountain's knees he grappled with.

He strained and strove to lift a mighty heap,

But only one small stone shifted and slid,

Bounced down the slope, fell in Klau's maelstrom

Of steel, and with a thin clamorous clang

Was like a baseball hurled into the sky.

Varr clenched his teeth and gripped his sword. He plunged

The blade beneath a mighty boulder, and

With all his weight hauled back and down. The rock

First groaned, then shifted. The abused sore sword

First bent, then snapped. Varr thudded to his knees

As the unseated stones cascaded down.

Klau struck his last and slew his final foe,

Then lept behind the granite waterfall.

The stones tore down the stairs, and swept the soot

Broken and smashed like branches in a flood

Off of the breaking stair onto the plain

And even to the Sulfur Carrier's toes.

Varr skidded from above the arch, and dropped,

Crying, “We did it! Let them try to win

Now up these broken steps! Nay not steps, cliffs!

A single man could now this passage hold!"

“A single man must hold it," grunted Klau,

“His companion is broken." Varr bent down

And saw, Klau's legs beneath the rocks fast pinned

At an unnatural angle, and above

Blood welled from wounds myriad, jagged, deep

To pool around him like the melt from ice.

“No, do not stoop to me," Klau gasped, “My time

Is coming fast, and nothing can you do

To save me. Now you have another task."

He gripped his black sword by the blade and held

The hilt toward Varr. “It was foretold that this

Would strike the blow that gives us victory.

Fool that I was, I thought that it would be

My hand that struck with it. No matter now.

Tell them, when you stand triumphing, that I

My duty have discharged, my glory won."

“Your duty is well done, and your glory,"

A voice came, low and quiet, from the door,

“Is won indeed. You promised me to wait

Until I was returned. I am returned.

Your word you have well kept, Klau Berserker,

So be at peace," The Old Man said, and smiled.

Klau looked in disbelief, and slowly shone

A look across his bloody face as if

His forefathers had all appeared to say

That his deeds were the capstone of their pride,

He seemed about to speak, but ere he did,

A long slow breath did he release, and did

Not breathe again. His eyes the Old Man shut.

Then the last two defenders looked out on

The ruins thrice-ruined and choked with Soot.

Varr moved to ask what was the Old Man's will,

But first the Sulfur Carrier stirred at last.

It seemed to swell, as does a diver's chest

Before he leaps the cliffs, and all the Soot

Turned toward it, slack jaws gaping—those that yet

Had jaws—as if to sing, or in surprise,

And eyes all blazing like far off headlights.

The sizzle hissing from them all increased

From kettle boiling, through static feedback,

To rocket engine. Then like embers in

The blast of the bellows, they glowed, they cracked.

Their substance was consumed by fires within,

And as they were blown out reduced to ash

Their hiss became a howl. Their claws reached out

As if to paralyze with hollow voice

And then to grasp the Sulfur Carrier.

But as they each burned up, the giant swelled,

Its shadow bulging high and spreading through

The sky, to block the false dawn and the stars,

The moltenness within pulsing like tide

Or heartbeat, and its grin spread wide and sharp.

Varr hefted Klau's black sword, and said “My Lord,

What plans have you? What stratagems employ?

And where is my Blood Brother? Where is Shane?

What shall we do without the Champion?"

The Old Man shook his head. His eye was wrapped

In a long cloth, that hung on his shoulders.

His pauldrons and his breastplate gilded were.

He wielded a long spear of living oak

Whose point was razor sharp, and was not carved

But grown. “I do not know what plans we have.

I meant for Shane and I to come in wrath

And overwhelm and overrun, and win.

But we betrayed were. All my plans are void.

So what shall we do now? Why we shall stand.

Twas said by Shane the Champion, and he

Spoke true, that when all plans are failed, then you

Must only stand. So you and I shall stand.

And may it be that we do stand will be

A victory invincible, for naught

Can undo or unmake that we two stood.

What glory can be hoped for more than this?"

No time for more speech had they. The huge claws

Were raised, the ponderous footsteps echoed.

The Sulfur Carrier was upon them.