“These ruins have been empty for too long.

They ring no more with scarlet laughing flags.

They echo not the peal of sparring arms,

Nor cries of joyful brotherhood of war.

They were not always silent. Once they shone

Undusty, undecrepit, unalone:

When I woke here, the second sound I heard,

After the wind that carried them aloft,

Were cries of those already seeking me.

That place was far from here, and not like this.

I woke amid high crags above a plain;

A maze of mountains canyon-cut by clouds,

An archipelago of granite peaks

Above a sea of grass. When we had met,

They led me down along a waterfall

Grown sevenfold at every cataract.

The plains ate greedily the miles. The moon

Waned thin and waxed again, and I spoke up.

I asked them who they were. They said, 'Your friends.'

I asked them where we were. They answered, 'Here.'

I asked them who had sent them. They said, 'One

Who better answers has.' Said they no more.

Until we came with welcome weariness

Over a lip of stone, and saw below

Spread crowded like a banquet on a board

A valley like a stadium. Great stones

Of grim grey, like thick thunderclouded steel,

Lay sprawled, like chessmen halfway through the game.

Around their ankles, grass, so vibrant green

That but to glimpse it was to feel the cool,

Rich, dewy touch of it upon your face,

Lay clinging like the water to an oar

That pulls free of the ocean; so it seemed

As if the earth had been a stormy sea

Transformed to turf. There on the greatest stone;

The chessboard king and emperor, as high as more

Than twenty-seven men; there was a hall.

Though it had spires and staircases, although

It had courtyards and colonnades, although

Turrets and battlements adorned the roof,

More than aught else, it was a feasting hall,

For I have seen enough of them to tell.

When through the weighty gates they led me in

I felt a shiver, like the vertigo

On looking down upon a rising tide

Dark, hungry, cold, unstoppable, that mounts

Across green land and crushes it. No more

Was it than shivers at the cold stone flags,

And yet it ever lingers in my mind.

I thought to see a throne, or coat of arms,

Or dais hung with tapestries. Instead

They brought me to a shaded, shuttered room,

Empty, save for an old man with his back

Toward me, peering through the window chink.

I thought he did not notice me, until

He raised a hand and said, 'The sun goes down.

For centuries, I have watched every night

To see if it burned blue, as does a flame

Upon a candle crown, when dead shades near.

The sunset ever has been wholly red,

And I can sleep at night.' He turned and looked

O'er me appraisingly and with double

The grimness of a drillmaster, but half

The vision: his left eye was covered up

In sable cloth. I had no time to guess

What lay beneath, for he said 'I know all

Your past, Varr Last-to-flee. I know your strength.

I know your bravery. You need not give

Account to me, but rather ask account

Of me. You must be puzzled at this place.

Ask what you will, and I will answer you.'

So many wonders crowded to my tongue.

Tastes of aphasia and doubt they bore, and I

Could barely think what question to ask first.

He seemed amused. I think he must have seen

Such paralysm many times before.

At last I broke the spell and said, 'Great lord,

For so you must be, having such a hall,

I know not how I came here, where here is,

Or what I am to do. Yet most I strain

My intellection out to know your name.

Who are you?' 'You are wise,' the old man said,

'As well as brave and strong. That question holds

All others. Yet I cannot say, so near

To what may be the doom of all, for names

Have power, Last-to-flee, which should be spent

But carefully. But I will tell as much

As may be told. Be seated, and take ease.'

Thus saying, he went to a chest, and took

A cask from it, and goblets, and he said,

'We keep no servants here. There once were maids

Of honey hair and sapphire satin eye,

As strong in arm as any lumberjack,

As gentle as a kitten in their hearts,

As terrible and splendid in their pride

As lightning on a summer night. No more.

Their laughter was like sleep after a watch.

They bore to us great mugs of mead. No more.

My lady, all the others: now no more.

It was not safe, though they were warriors too.

It was not safe. Now we wait on ourselves.'

He passed a goblet, but did not pour yet,

And said, 'There was a legend, to the south,

Of an Old Man, who built a wondrous court

In desert mountains inaccessible.

There would he smuggle, by some secret paths,

Young men of warrior caste, drugged fast asleep.

They would awake in splendor, in a place

Alike to paradise, and there they found

Rich food, rich ornament, and gardens cool,

Willing maidens, treasures multifold,

And drugs to cloud the reason. Then this man

Would thither smuggle them again, and tell

The tale that for a week, they had been dead

And had had but a taste of heaven. If

They died fighting for him, they would go back

Forever. What he was in counterfeit,

I am in truth.' I stared agape. 'Then I am dead?

Or do you mean to send me back alive

To fight for you, as this Old Man once did?'

'Not so,' the Old Man said, 'There is no path

By which the dead can cross back into life.

How often I have wished that there could be!

But no, the fight is here, among the dead.

Our company are those whose mighty deeds

Did bear their spirits up as their breath ceased.

All those who nobly end in battle's dance

Come to my hall, for here is work to do

Fit for their prowess. Here is honor won.

Here is enacted epic. Here is war.

And here are needed warriors such as you.'

His speech so stirred my blood, I nearly drew

My sword, and begged command from him to fight

However hopeless be the cause. And even now

I feel their force again. Yet as they drummed

Against my ears from inside, came a doubt.

'You say that I am dead. How did I die?

I was indeed in battle, I recall,

But do recall no dying.' Then he shrugged

And said 'Do you recall the womb, ere birth?

But need I not your credence, just your sword.

Believe me not, Varr Last-to-flee, but fight!'

He poured for me a measure of gold mead.

I took, I bowed to him, I drank it down:

It ran like molten steel throughout my veins.

For many years I lodged below that roof.

How many, I know not—at least the span

Of one lifetime twixt cradle and the grave.

I learned much that I never thought to know:

Techniques of swordsmanship both long-forgot

And new-devised, and archery (which I

Had never tried), and tracking in the wild,

And how to read the verses in the wind,

Which led me to you in those pathless woods.

Yet whispers were there none, for all the drills

Of any enemy for years on years.

I hold those years the best time of my life,

If live I do. I grew strong. I slept deep.

I had good brotherhood in arms, more dear

Than bread. Life was so sweet, that we began

To doubt the Old Man's warnings, and his war.

We saw no end to feasting or to jousts.

We glimpsed no whiff of blood upon the wind.

In any case, if we had died before

What need of fear? The Old Man only frowned

And nodded as he said, 'Well, we shall see.'

Then came a day when I was on the watch

Of evening, as the autumn slipped away

And winter crept down from the mountain peaks

To which it had retreated. I saw light

Go dim, as if with swift-obscuring cloud.

I saw the heavy amber colored sun

Begin to shimmer at its lower edge

As if behind the waves of filmy heat

Arising from a road. Then all at once,

Like dye dropped in a pan of water, spread

Deep corpsy blue across the solar face.

I felt the light go cold. I saw the warmth

Of all the colors drain and grey. I heard

A shuddering pass by, turning the air

To tortured, clinging mist. At my elbow

There was as suddenly as waking up

The Old Man, all alertness. 'Now begins

I wish I knew not what. Go, get to bed.

You will have need of sleep, ere very long.

Your watch was vigilant, but no watch now

Can save us,' he intoned, and hung his head

As slipped the cyan sun behind the hills.

Though I was wakeful, I spoke not, that night,

But lay in wondering if others lay

Alike awake and wondered, and I feared

I knew not what. In spite of all, the sun

Rose red and rich as ever, come the dawn.

The mighty doors stood open wide. The light,

That drew a path as bitter and unbent

As razor's edge upon the marble floor,

Was pale gold, like faded petals thrown

Before the feet of paladins, and smelled

Of dawn and death and mad ennobled deeds.

Before it stood the Old Man, dressed for war,

His shadow stretched to titan stature, sword

Unsheathing in the satin sun which burned

In gouts of molten light upon the steel.

While all stood wordless, wondering, he spoke

In tones unused to all our ears before:

The cricket is as to the mighty bell

That takes the weight of seven men to ring,

As such a bell was to the Old Man's voice.

'Now you have seen the sign.' he said, 'Now you

Have seen the dawning of the battle day.

Now you shall see your enemy, for he

At last has breached our borders. I command

No strategies from you. I ask no oaths,

And orders give you none. Each one of you,

Most mighty, most courageous among men,

Who finds the way into my hall from sleep,

Has proved the worth already of your blood.

I do not promise victory. It is

Not mine to offer, only yours to seize.

Yet think on victors not. Aim higher. Think

On martyrs meeting death with joyous cry,

On hunters greeting danger like a friend,

On warriors facing doom unstoppable

With blessing, that in glory they go down.

My only charge is thus: go forth and do

As warriors do. Warriors you are. To war!'

He shook his sword and shield in the flood

Of unobstructed sunlight through the door,

And all the host did likewise. Let me live

With that roar ringing always in my ears,

And I will need no goad to do brave deeds."