Book 1

I have been a spirit on the un-watered world
I have been the Elden Grove
I have been a vintner on storm-struck Moridunon, then called Mnorion
(For the former is a tautology)
I have been my enemy in dreams half-remembered at the dawn
I have been a naked blade of iron
A quivering bow of wood, and antler, and wood again
And the arrow it has loosed
I have been graht-oak and graht-elk and graht-nothing-at-all
I have been gorged on the lifeblood of the Green
I have been the Green itself

I went weeping into the world, searching for wonders
When the wonders of home had been lost
When the Kings of Sunset stepped onto the Dark Isle
And stepped over our bodies
I wept an ocean and sailed it
A blue divide which then was more divisive
The far side ever-growing in the interim
(The rock itself has living roots, and red-hot sap)
I have been the thrice-hidden Aren of Hunters
I have been the swift-footed Aren of Warriors
I have been the amber-tongued Aren of Merchants

I stood upon the shore, red sap weeping
There a new city was founded
The earth had welcomed me with its smoking hearth
And beyond the gates, a grove of wood
From which I built my kingdom
And thought nothing of it
The Merchant built a wooden port for his ships
(Which carried my dead back to ancestral tombs)
The Warrior built wooden pens for his slaves
(Which he drew from the beastfolk of the forest)
The Hunter, also Bowyer, built wooden staves (with which he hunted)

I have been a cat-man, all teeth and hunger and greed
I have been a horse-man, my city under tents and marching
I have been a bird-man, nested in migratory branches
I have been an ape-man, blood always boiling
I have been a giant-man, my kingdoms grand and crumbling
I have seen the interloper on my shores, at storm-struck Mnorion
I have been hungry for his crops, and greedy for his tools
I have come upon his wooden walls across my tented paths
I have heard him chopping at my tree, and running to keep up
I have heard his foreign songs and been driven to war
I have seen his city, still grander than my own

Imprisoned in my own wooden walls, I prayed
I prayed to my sacred forefathers
And sacred they are
I prayed to my sacred gods
And sacred they are
In my desperation, I sacrificed my slaves to those others
And profane they are
The vines twisted on the tombs
The grasses undulated in the holy lands
The wooden beams of those dark sanctuaries groaned
But I received no respite

Out of storm-struck Mnorion I had been delivered
To flame-weeping Woodhearth
Whence I sent my dead to ancestral tombs
And where my tombs would be marked by nothing
But the Elden wood I had erected and bled under
My prayers were a dance for a moth-priest
A dance of water on the sputtering candle in my chest
I have been hopeless, and mad
I have eaten the flesh of my brother
I have worn his skin as a totem
Against myself who had done it

And in madness I have quit the hobby of prayer
And taken up singing as a pastime
I have formed a great choir, as I have done in the field
While working the work of a brother-eater
In the charnel houses which had once been meeting places
And temples
As I had concocted jokes on the craft of the hunt
And traded barbs on the craft of war
And woven unlikely tales on the craft of trade
I have made raucous gags, and vicious insults, and spurious fancies
On the craft of carving my brother's corpse

Beyond my miserable walls of Elden wood
Five armies heard my laughter, and heard my songs, and heard my madness
But they did not hear what I heard
An answer to my song
A perfect harmony
Sometimes leading, sometimes supporting
Learning my melodies, and teaching new ones
I imagined a beautiful goddess, or a choir of them
On the banks of the great mirror lake in the wood beyond the wall
Their beautiful voices stirring the slightest clouding
In that flawless glass surface

The thrice-hidden Aren of Hunters, and the swift-footed Aren of Warriors
And the amber-tongued Aren of Merchants, and the dead (who were dead)
Sat for a great feast, as I had at the founding
And passed around the goblet and carved the roast
Though I drank blood and ate merflesh
And made the First Pact, marked by the feasting as pacts were from then
It was decided that the siege would end at the next dawn
By one way or by another
Plans were drawn up on brother-vellum
And I found the oldest blood stirred the slightest clouding
And that night five armies heard my most cheerful laughter, my most beautiful songs, and shuddered

At the dreamy dawn, the gates were opened
And five armies who entered, stepping over bodies, found nothing
But the Elden wood I had erected and bled under
Yet again they heard my singing, a solo voice
Sailing eastward from the western wooden port
(Whence I sent my dead to ancestral tombs)
A small force was left at the walls
While five armies forced themselves through the boulevards
As an arrow through sap, slowly
Each of them, in their thousands, hoping to win the one victory
Of that miserable battle

Cat-paw and horse-hoof and ape-palm
And bird-talon and giant-toe
Clattered on the cobblestones which had been wept into the sea
I have been a singer on the sea, blue divide behind me
Amber tongue lashing out the words to my most beautiful songs
Taught by the voice in the grove
Singing against a wall of enemies appearing before me
I have told them the one about the dreugh and the were-shark
The were-shark complained the dreugh was a pale and tiny morsel, before he ate him
So the dreugh showed him a larger meal, and the shark ate only dreugh ink
And I have laughed my most cheerful laughter as they cut my throat

Five armies remembered the songs they had heard from beyond the wall
I have sung drunkenly, at a feast
Of the one thousand benefits of hiding
And five armies remembered entering, stepping over bodies, finding nothing
Not finding, among the dead, the brother-eaters (who were not dead)
For the foremost benefit of hiding is to remain not-dead
I have been alive and falling upon the guard at the gate
Tearing them apart with my hands, quickly gnawing their hearts for the strength to go on
And five armies heard my feasting from western wooden ports
Heard the screams of their comrades (who were dead thereafter)
I have been fleeing my grand city, on swift feet, and sealing its gates behind me

I reached the grove where every tree was like the Crystal Tower
As the sun was setting behind ancestral isles
And reached the mirror lake among the trees when the moons were in the sky
There were no goddesses on its banks, not even a solo voice
But I filed into its glassy waters to cool the heat of marching
Stirring the slightest clouding on that flawless surface
So the moons appeared only above me
And in that rippling glass I felt a cold hopelessness rise again
But I sat very still, and as the waters stilled also, I felt a warmth in that crowd
That convocation in the malignity of the moonless speculum
A dance of fire on the sputtering candle in my chest

I have been in a grove, beyond the walls, in a lake like a mirror
I have been staring at a clouded glass, and seen it still
I have seen the moons below me again, and I have seen Him
I have seen a graht-elk with great trees for antlers
I have seen His green and whitish glow, reflected from the banks
I have seen the Singer in the Woods
I have heard His voice again, as sweet when speaking as when singing
I have heard His name, which is Iefre
(May it be sung by amber tongues)
I have heard Him address me in my multitudes
And I have heard Him condemn me for my misdeeds

Every step you have taken on this land
Has been a step wrongly learned
You dance a dance of water
On a land which weeps fire
And step on the toes of giants
With wooden shoes
At the dreamy dawn, the spirits of the un-watered world
Danced a dance of fire, ever-shifting
Steps learned for feet or for roots
Depending on the dragon-eagle's whim
Until the dawn ended

These great cypresses, tower-trunked, are the dancers
Bound by bony shackles to this land
And so it is sacred
You have hewn these trees, and they have screamed to me
For I am their protector
And my punishment is death
So you have delivered yourself to your own tombs
Marked by nothing but this Elden Grove
And this mirror lake
Or would have, but you are also bound by the earthbones
Dancers bound as mer, and I am your protector

A great shout went up, and shook the lake
And reflected from the trees as the moons reflected in the waters
My chest was aflame, a conflagration
I have been in the presence of something bigger than me
In my multitudes
I have been in the presence of my protector, bodily
I have been in receipt of His gifts
To defeat the five armies at my back
But He is a pact-maker, like those others
And no gift is free ('As it should be,' says the amber-tongued Aren of Merchants)
And he extracts from me a promise

For each moon you see, you shall be bound to me by blood
On brother-vellum, which you tanned sinfully
And these contracts shall be the whole of the law
And this law shall extend to the limits of these holy lands
And my punishment is death
And though I see you agreeing swiftly
For two pacts seems a small price for deliverance
You have forgotten the mirror lake
Its still waters are a glass below you
And so below you also are moons
The pacts number four

By Iode above you, make this pact in blood
You will honour all pacts, above all else
For this contract is the root of all others
By Ione above you, make this pact in blood
You will cut not, eat not of the leaf or the vine or the root or the branch
For they are your brothers from the dawn time
By Ius below you, make this pact in blood
Brotherhood is the contract signed at birth
For the eagle cannot live without a perch, and the tree is nothing if not a perch
By Iorth below you, make this pact in blood
Combat is the contract signed at draw, for otherwise murder is the law

I have been a great people, in my multitudes, divided
He has already fooled us once with his moon-trick
I have been swift-footed and seen the implication
That no mer could be born a slave
So what was the warrior's trade worth?
The Aren fled eastward to a great lake and forgot how to laugh
I have been amber-tongued and understood
That no crops or spices or ships could be cultivated
So what was the merchant's trade worth?
The Aren fled northward to the tower and forgot how to laugh
They prospered for a time

I have been the thrice-hidden Aren of Hunters
I have signed pacts in blood, on brother-vellum
Numbering four for each moon I could see
In a mirror lake in the Elden Grove
And He has bestowed His gifts upon me
I have been a dancer of fire, and in it
Ever-shifting, like in the dreamy dawn
I have cast off my Mnorian steed, unsuited for the rainforest
I have ridden the graht-elk and become him, hur and hind
I have been the source of all the monsters in the world, a wild hunt
I have been upon my pursuers in every form imaginable

The cat-man fled eastward to his brothers, perhaps hoping to catch the warriors
The ape-man fell to his knees and swore oaths to my seething multitudes
The horse-man signed terrified pacts in blood, and agreed to the New Law
The bird-man was shaken from his walking roost at Camoran and eaten
And vanished from the waking world
The giant-man was pulled down into my seething multitudes
And his eyes were torn out, and his toes were chewed off
And his grand kingdoms crumbled completely
And his bones built new cities in the new way
Pulled whole through the jungle by elephants
The Elden wood of the city was buried under stone, where I send my dead through ancestral groves

I have been a spirit on the un-watered world
I have been the Elden Grove
I have been a vintner on storm-struck Mnorion, now called Moridunon
(For I took the tongue with me)
I have been the dreamer at the dawn
I have been a naked blade of ivory
A quivering bow of antler
And the arrow it has loosed
I have been graht-oak and graht-elk and graht-nothing-at-all
I have been gorged on the lifeblood of the Green
I have been the Green itself