by Adam Bishop
The ruins of a kingdom, crumbling stone, through the eyes of a mortal, a treasure unknown.
Its artwork unmatched, though tainted still fair, to our heroes a safe haven; an answering prayer.
With bellies full and spirits high, the fear of death became a distant cry.
A sea of cinders, none should look upon.
A sea of cinders, the weeping bed of Rhan.
A hidden door, a secret path, Tullin’s Bay, a merry stay.
A hidden floor of those before, who fled the wrath … of the northern rams who set fire to their lands; our heroes followed in their stead.
The help of hooves they had not, yet they travelled and they fought … through the miles, of a map, unread.
A sea of cinders, far behind but not foregone.
A sea of cinders, the weeping bed of Rhan.
Not all those who wander are lost, the good ones are often found. To a castle they weren’t taken,
but instead a lovely golden town.
Where the ale was a family secret, and their salvation was free from the crown.
A haven lost in plain sight, atop a hill and far away, at the end of the day its name takes flight.
Where the wind often blows yet nobody knows, be it map, or sailor, or knight.
A place like this can only exist if it repels all those who carry the blight.
It’s a shame to find and leave in short time, yet our heroes did just that.
With a gift to save their lives and a farewell fit for a king, they did all but tip their hat.
The valley came and went, a blur of rock and grass and death, a towering hallway made by nature that ended Elven breath.
But an end to some is a beginning to others, and so our heroes fled … Through the hallway of Larin and to our wood, where their warning gave an answer unsaid.
A sea of cinders, far behind but not foregone.
A sea of cinders, the weeping bed of Rhan.
Thank you, reader. I do hope you enjoyed part one of The Voice of No Quarter. Please consider leaving a review, it would be much appreciated. Subscribe to the link below for future updates on book two.
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