Oathbreaker

SUFFER THE CHILDREN

(Tarma: Oathbreakers)

These are the hands that wield a sword

With trained and practiced skill;

These are the hands, and this the mind,

Both honed and backed by will.

Death is my partner, blood my trade,

And war my passion wild --

But these are the hands that also ache

To hold a tiny child.

CH: Suffer, they suffer, the children,

When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks!

It is ever and always the children

Who will pay for their parents' mistakes.

Somehow they know that I'm a friend --

I see it in their eyes,

Somehow they sense a kindly heart --

So young, so very wise.

Mine are the hands that maim and kill --

But children never care.

They only know my hands are strong

And comfort is found there.

Little enough that I can do

To shield the young from pain --

Not while their parents fight and die

For land, or goods, or gain.

All I can do is give them love --

All I can do is strive

To teach them enough of my poor skill

To help them stay alive.

2CH: Cursed Oathbreakers, your honor's in pawn

And worthless the vows you have made --

Justice shall see you where others have gone,

Delivered to those you betrayed!

These are the signs of a mage that's forsworn --

The True Gifts gone dead in his hand,

Magic corrupted and discipline torn,

Shifting heart like shifting sand;

Swift to allow any passion to run,

Given to hatred and rage.

Give him wide berth and his company shun --

For darkness devours the Dark Mage.

These are the signs of a traitor in war --

Wealth from no visible source,

Shunning old comrades he welcomed before,

Holding to no steady course.

If you uncover the one who'd betray,

Heed not his words nor his pen.

Give him no second chance-drive him away --

False once will prove false again.

These are the signs of the treacherous priest --

Pleasure in anyone's pain,

Abuse or degrading of man or of beast,

Duty as second to gain,

Preaching belief but with none of his own,

Twisting all that he controls.

Fear him and never face him all alone,

He corrupts innocent souls.

These are the signs of the king honor-broke --

Pride coming first over all,

Treading the backs and the necks of his folk That he alone might stand tall.

Giving himself to desires that are base,

Tyrannous, cunning, and cruel.

Bring him down-set someone else in his place.

Such men are not fit to rule.

ADVICE TO YOUNG MAGICIANS

(Kethry)

The firebird knows your anger

And the firebird feels your fear,

For your passions will attract her

And your feelings draw her near.

But the negative emotions

Only make her flame and fly.

You must rule your heart, magician,

Or by her bright wings you die.

Now the cold-drake lives in silence

And he feeds on dark despair

Where the shadows fall the bleakest

You will find the cold-drake there.

For he seeks to chill your spirit

And to lure you down to death.

Learn to rule your soul, magician,

Ere you dare the cold-drake's breath.

And the griffon is a proud beast

He's the master of the sky.

And no one forgets the sight

Who has seen the griffon fly.

But his will is formed in magic

And not mortal flesh and bone

And if you would rule the griffon

You must first control your own.

The kyree is a creature

With a soul both old and wise

You must never think to fool him

For he sees through all disguise.

If you seek to call a kyree

All your secrets he shall plumb --

So be certain you are worthy

Or the kyree-will not come.

For your own heart you must conquer

If the firebird you would call

You must know the dark within you

Ere you seek the cold-drake's hall

Here is better rede, magician

Than those books upon your shelf --

If you seek to master others

You must master first yourself.

OATHBOUND

(The Oathbound, Tarma and Kethry)

CH: Bonds of blood and bonds of steel

Bonds of god-fire and of need,

Bonds that only we two feel

Bonds of word and bonds of deed,

Bonds we took -- and knew the cost

Bonds we swore without mistake

Bonds that give more than we lost,

Bonds that grant more than they take.

Tarma:

Kal'enedral, Sword-Sworn, I,

To my Star-Eyed Goddess bound,

With my pledge would vengeance buy

But far more than vengeance found.

Now with steel and iron will

Serve my Lady and my Clan

All my pleasure in my skill --

Nevermore with any man.

Kethry:

Bound am I by my own will

Never to misuse my power --

Never to pervert my skill

To the pleasures of an hour.

With this blade that I now wear

Came another bond indeed --

While her arcane gifts I share

I am bound to woman's Need.

Tarma:

And by blood-oath we are bound

Held by more than mortal bands

For the vow we swore was crowned

By god-fires upon our hands.

Kethry:

You are more than shield-sib now

We are bound, and yet are free

So I make one final vow --

That your Clan shall live through me.

ADVICE TO WOULD-BE HEROES

(Tarma)

So you want to go earning your keep with your sword

And you think it cannot be too hard --

And you dream of becoming a hero or lord

With your praises sung out by some bard.

Well now, let me then venture to give you advice

And when all of my lecture is done

We will see if my words have not made you think twice

About whether adventuring's "fun!"

Now before you seek shelter or food for yourself

Go seek first for those things for your beast

For he is worth far more than praises or pelf

Though a fool thinks to value him least.

If you've ever a moment at leisure to spare

Then devote it, as if to your god,

To his grooming, and practice, and weapons-repair

And to seeing you both are well-shod.

Eat you lightly and sparingly-never full-fed --

For a full belly founders your mind.

Ah, but sleep when you can-it is better than bread --

For on night-watch no rest will you find.

Do not boast of your skill, for there's always one more

Who would prove he is better than you.

Treat swordladies like sisters, and not like a whore

Or your wenching days, child, will be few.

When you look for a captain, then look for the man

Who thinks first of his men and their beasts,

And who listens to scouts, and has more than

one plan,

And heeds not overmuch to the priests.

And if you become captain, when choosing your men

Do not look at the "heroes" at all.

Forahero dies young-rather choose yourself ten

Or a dozen whose pride's not so tall.

Now your Swordmaster' s god-whosoever he be --

When he stands there before you to teach

And don't argue or whine, think to mock foolishly

Or you'll soon be consulting a leech'

Now most booty is taken by generals and kings

And there's little that's left for the low

So it's best that you learn skills, or work at odd things

To keep food in your mouth as you go.

And last, if you should chance to reach equal my years

You must find you a new kind of trade

For the plea that you're still spry will fall on deaf ears --

There's no work for old swords, I'm afraid.

Now if all that I've told you has not changed your mind

Then I'll teach you as best as I can.

For you're stubborn, like me, and like me of the kind

Becomes one ./we swords-woman or -man!

THE PRICE OF COMMAND

(Captain Idra)

This is the price of commanding --

That you always stand alone,

Letting no one near

To see the fear

That's behind the mask you've grown.

This is the price of commanding.

This is the price of commanding --

That you watch your dearest die,

Sending women and men

To Bght again,

And you never tell them why.

This is the price of commanding.

This is the price of commanding,

That mistakes are signed in red --

And that you won't pay

But others may,

And your best may wind up dead.

This is the price of commanding.

This is the price of commanding --

All the deaths that haunt your sleep.

And you hope they forgive

And so you live

With your memories buried deep.

This is the price of commanding.

This is the price of commanding --

That if you won't, others will.

So you take your post,

Mindful of each ghost --

You've a debt to them to fill.

This is the price of commanding.

THE ARCHIVIST

(Jadrek)

I sit amid the dusty books. The dust invades my very soul.

It coats my heart with weariness and chokes it with despair.

My life lies beached and withered on a lonely, bleak, uncharted shoal.

There are no kindred spirits here to understand, or care.

When I was young, how often I would feed my hungry mind with tales

And sought the fellowship in books I did not find in kin.

For one does not seek friends when every overture to others fails

So all the company I craved I built from dreams within.

Those dreams-from all my books of lore I plucked the wonders one by one

And waited for the day that I was certain was to come

When some new hero would appear whose quest had only now begun

With desperate need of lore and wisdom I alone could plumb.

And then, ah then, I'd ride away to join with legend and with song.

The trusted friend of heroes, figured in their words and deeds.

Until that day, among the books I'd dwell -- but I have dwelt too long

And like the books I sit alone, a relic no one needs.

I grow too old, I grow too old, my aching bones have made me lame

And if my futile dream came true, I could not live it now.

The time is past, long past, when I could ride the wings of fleeting fame

The dream is dead beneath the dust, as 'neath the dust I bow.

So, unregarded and alone I tend these fragments of the past

Poor fool who bartered life and soul on dreams and useless lore.

And as I watch despair and bitterness enclose my heart at last

Within my soul's dark night I cry out, "Is there nothing more?"

LIZARD DREAMS

(Kethry: Oathbound)

Most folk avoid the Pelagir Hills, where ancient

wars and battles

Were fought with magic, not with steel, for land

and gold and chattels.

Most folk avoid the forest dark for magics still

surround it

And change the creatures living there and all

that dwell around it.

Within a tree upon a hill that glowed at night

with magic

There lived a lizard named Gervase whose life

was rather tragic.

His heart was brave, his mind was wise. He

longed to be a wizard.

But who would ever think to teach their magic

to a lizard?

So poor Gervase would sit and dream, or sigh as

sadly rueing

That fate kept him forever barred from good he

could be doing.

That he had wit and mind and will it cannot be

debated

He also had the kindest heart that ever gods

created.

One day as Gervase sighed and dreamed all in

the forest sunning

He heard a noise of horse and hound and sounds

of two feet running.

A human stumbled to his glade, a human worn

and weary

Dressed in a shredded wizard's robe, his eyes past hope and dreary.

The magic of his birthplace gave Gervase the

gift of speaking.

He hesitated not at all-ran to the wizard,

squeaking,

"Hide human, hide! Hide in my tree!" he danced

and pointed madly.

The wizard stared, the wizard gasped, then hid

himself right gladly.

Gervase at once lay in the sun until the hunt

came by him

Then like a simple lizard now he fled as they

came nigh him.

And'glowered in the hollow tree and hissed when

they came near him

And bit a few dogs' noses so they'd yelp and leap

and fear him.

"Thrice damn that wizard!" snarled his foe. "He's

slipped our hunters neatly.

The hounds have surely been misled. They've

lost the trail completely."

He whipped the the dogs off of the tree and sent

them homeward running

And never once suspected it was all Gervase's

cunning.

The wizard out of hiding crept. "Thrice blessing

I accord you!

And is there somehow any way I can at all re-ward you?"

"I want to be a man like you!" Gervase replied

unthinking.

"A wizard-or a man?" replied the mage who

stared, unblinking.

"For I can only grant you one, the form of man,

or power.

What will you choose? Choose wisely, I must

leave within the hour."

Gervase in silence sat and thought, his mind in

turmoil churning.

And first the one choice thinking on, then to the

other turning.

Yes, he could have the power he craved, the

magic of a wizard

But who'd believe that power lived inside a lowly

lizard?

Or he could have the form of man, but what

could he do in it?

And all the good he craved to do-how then

could he begin it?

Within the Councils of the Wise there sits a

welcome stranger

His word is sought by high and low if there is

need or danger.

He gives his aid to all who ask, who need one to

defend them

And every helpless creature knows he lives but

to befriend them.

And though his form is very strange compared

to those beside him

The mages care not for the form, but for the

mind inside him.

For though he's small, and brightly scaled, they

do not see a lizard.

He's called by all, both great and small, "Gervase,

the Noble Wizard."

He's known by all, both great and small, Gervase

the Lizard Wizard!

LOVERS UNTRUE

(Tarma: "Swordsworn")

"I shall love you till I die!"

Talasar and Dera cry.

He swears "On my life I vow

Only death could part us now!"

She says "You are life and breath

Nothing severs us but Death!"

Lightly taken, lightly spoke,

Easy vows are easy broke.

"Come and ride awhile with me/'

Talasar says to Varee,

"Look, the moon is rising high,

Countless stars bestrew the sky.

Come, or all the hours are flown

It's no night to lie alone."

This the one who lately cried

That he'd love until he died.

"Kevin, do you think me fair?"

Dera smiles, shakes back her hair.

"I have long admired you --

Come, the night is young and new

And the wind is growing cold --

I would see if you are bold -- "

Is this she who vowed till death

Talasar was life and breath?

Conies the dawn-beneath a tree

Talasar lies with Varee.

But look-who should now draw near --

Dera and her Kevin-dear

He sees her -- and she sees him --

Oh confusion! Silence grim!

Till he sighs, and shakes his head-(pregnant pause)

"Well, I guess we must be dead!"

THE LESLAC VERSION

(Leslac and Tarma)

Leslac: The Warrior and the sorceress rode into

Viden-town

For they had heard of evil there and

meant to bring it down

An overlord with iron hand who ruled his

folk with rear --

Tarma: Bartender, shut that minstrel up and bring another beer.

L: The Warrior and the sorceress went search --

ing high and low

T: That isn't true, I tell you, and I think that I

should know!

L: They meant to find the tyrant who'd betrayed

his people's trust

And bring the monster's power and pride to

tumble in the dust.

L: They searched through all the town to find and bring him to defeat.

T: Like Hell! What we were looking for was wine and bread and meat!

L: They found him in the tavern and they chal-lenged him to fight.

T: We found him holding up the bar, drunk as a pig, that night.

L: The tyrant laughed and mocked at them, with vile words and base.

T: He tripped on WarrFs tail, then took excep-tion to my face.

L: The Warrior was too wise for him; his blade

clove only air!

3T: He swung, I ducked, he lunged -- and then he tripped over a chair.

L: With but a single blow the Warrior brought

him to his doom!

T: About that time he turned around-I got him

with a broom.

L: And in a breath the deed was done! The

tyrant-lord lay dead*

T: I didn't mean for him to hit the fire iron with

his head!

L: The wife that he had kept shut up they

freed and set on high

And Viden-town beneath her hand content --

edly did lie.

T: I went to find his next-of-kin and to the girl

confess --

"Your husband wasn't much before, but now

he's rather less -- "

T: "He was a drunken sot, and I'll be better

off," she said.

"And while I can't admit it, I'm not sorry

that he's dead.

So here's a little something -- but you'd best

be on your way --

I'll claim it was an accident if you'll just

leave today."

L: In triumph out of Viden-town the partners

rode again

To find another tyrant and to clean him

from his den --

The scourge of evil and the answer to a des-perate prayer!"

T: Don't you believe a word of it-I know, 'cause I was there!

WIND'S FOUR QUARTERS

(Tarma: "Swordsworn")

CH; Wind's four quarters, air and fire

Earth and water, hear my desire

Grant my plea who stands alone --

Maiden, Warrior, Mother and Crone.

Eastern wind blow clear, blow clean,

Cleanse my body of its pain,

Cleanse my mind of what I've seen,

Cleanse my honor of its stain.

Maid whose love has never ceased

Bring me healing from the East.

Southern wind blow hot, blow hard,

Fan my courage to a flame,

Southern wind be guide and guard,

Add your bravery to my name.

Let my will and yours be twinned,

Warrior of the Southern wind.

Western wind, stark, blow strong,

Grant me arm and mind of steel

On a road both hard and long.

Mother, hear me where I kneel.

Let no weakness on my quest

Hinder me, wind of the West.

Northern wind blow cruel, blow cold,

Sheathe my aching heart in ice,

3Armor "round my soul enfold.

Crone I need not call you twice.

To my foes bring the cold of death!

Chill me. North wind's frozen breath.

THE SWORDLADY, OR: "THAT SONG"

(Leslac)

Swordlady, valiant, no matter the foe,

Into the battle you fearlessly go --

Boldly you ride out beyond map and chart --

Why are you frightened to open your heart?

Swordlady, lady of consummate skill,

Lady of prowess, of strength and of will,

Swordlady, lady of cold ice and steel,

Why will you never admit that you feel?

Swordlady, mistress of all arts of war,

Wise in the ways of all strategic lore,

You fear no creature below or above,

Why do you shrink from the soft touch of love?

Swordlady, brave to endure wounds and pain,

Plunging through lightning, through thunder and

rain,

Flinching from nothing, so high is your pride,

Why then pretend you hold nothing inside?

Swordlady, somewhere within you is hid

A creature of feeling that no vow can rid,

A woman-a girl, with a heart soft and warm,

No matter the brutal deeds that you perform.

Swordlady, somewhere inside of you deep,

Cowers the maiden that you think asleep,

Frozen within you, in ice shrouded womb

That you can only pretend is a tomb.

Swordlady, all of the vows you have made

Can never make your heart die as you've bade.

Swordlady, after the winter comes spring;

One day your heart will awaken and sing.

Swordlady, one day there must come a man Who shall lift from you this self-imposed ban, Thawing the ice that's enshrouded your soul, On that day swordlady, you shall be whole.

SHIN'A'IN WARSONG

(The old tradition holds that the Shin'a'in-now forty-odd Clans in all-originally came from four:

the Tale'sedrin (Children of the Hawk), the Liha'-irden (Deer-sibs), the Vuysher'edras (Brothers of the Wolves), and the Pretera'sedrin (the Chil-dren of the Grasscats). Hence the monumental se-riousness of the threat of declaring Tale'sedrin a dead Clan in Oathbound.)

Gold the dawn-sun spreads his wings --

Follow where the East-wind sings,

Brothers, sisters, side by side,

To defend our home we ride!

Eyes of Hawks the borders see --

Watchers, guard it carefully

Let no stranger pass it by --

Children of the Hawk, now fly!

CH: Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone,

Help us keep this land our own.

Rover, Guardian, Hunter, Guide,

With us now forever ride.

Speed of deer, oh grant to these --

Swift to warn of enemies,

Fleeter far than any foe --

Deer-child, to the border go!

Cunning as the Wolf-pack now,

To no overlord we bow!

Lest some lord our freedom blight,

Brothers of the Wolves, we fight!

Brave, the great Cat guards his lair,

Teeth to rend and claws to tear.

Lead the battle, first to last,

Children of the Cat, hold fast!

Hawk and Cat, and Wolf and Deer,

Keep the plains now safe from fear,

Brothers, sisters, side by side,

To defend our home, we ride!

SHIN'A'IN SONG OF THE SEASONS

(Although Tarma seldom mentioned the fact, her people have a four-aspected male deity to compliment the female. This song gives Him equal time with Her.)

The East wind is calling, so come ride away,

Come follow the Rover into the new day,

Come follow the Maiden, the Dark Moon, with

me,

The new year's beginning, come ride out and see.

Come follow the Rover out onto the plains,

Come greet the new life under sweet, singing

rains,

Come follow the Maiden beneath vernal showers,

For where her feet passed you will find fra-grant flowers.

The South wind, oh hear it, we ride to the call We follow the Guardian, the Lord of us all, We follow the Warrior, the strong to defend, The New Moon to fighters is ever a friend.

With summer comes fighting, with summer, our

foes;

And how we must thwart them the Guardian

knows.

The Warrior will give them no path but retreat,

The Warrior and Guardian will bring their defeat.

Come follow the West wind, the wind of the

fall,

The Mother will cast her cloak over us all. Come follow the Hunter out onto the plain, Return to the Clan with the prey we have slain.

For now comes the autumn, the time of the

West,

The season of Full Moon, of harvest, then rest.

So take from Her hands all the fruits of the

fields,

And thank Him for all that the autumn-hunt

yields.

The North wind, the cold wind, the wind of the

snow,

Tells us, it is time winter pastures to go.

The Guide knows the path, and the Crone shows

us how --

The Old Moon, and time for returning is now.

And if, with the winter, should come the last

breath,

And riding, we ride out of life into death,

The Wise One, the Old Moon, will ease our last

load,

The Guide will be waiting to show the new road.

THREES

(Leslac)

Deep into the stony hills, miles from keep or

hold

A troupe of guards comes riding with a lady and

her gold --

Riding in the center shrouded in her cloak of fur,

Companioned by a maiden and a toothless, aged

cur.

Three things see no end, a flower blighted ere it

bloomed,

A message that was wasted, and a journey that is doomed.

One among the guardsmen has a shifting, rest --

less eye,

And as they ride he scans the hills that rise

against the sky.

He wears both sword and bracelet worth more

than he can afford,

And hidden in his baggage is a heavy, secret

hoard.

Of three things be wary, of a feather on a cat,

The shepherd eating mutton and the guardsman

that is fat.

From ambush, bandits screaming charge the

packtrain and its prize,

And all but four within the train are taken by

surprise,

And all but four are cut down as a woodsman

fells a log,

The guardsman, and the lady, and the maiden,

and the dog,

Three things know a secret-first, the lady in a

dream,

The dog that barks no warning and the maid who

does not scream.

Then off the lady pulls her cloak, in armor she

is clad,

Her sword is out and ready, and her eyes are fierce and glad.

The maiden gestures briefly and the dog's a cur no more --

A wolf, sword-maid and sorceress now face the bandit corps!

Three things never anger or you will not live for

long,

A wolf with cubs, a man with power and a wom-an's sense of wrong.

The bandits growl a challenge and the lady only

grins,

The sorceress bows mockingly, and then the fight

begins!

When it ends there are but four left standing

from that horde

The witch, the wolf, the traitor, and the woman

with the sword!

Three things never trust in, the maiden sworn

as "pure,"

The vows a king has given and the ambush that

is "sure.

They strip the traitor naked and they whip him

on his way

Into the barren hillsides like the folks he used

to slay.

They take a thorough vengeance for the women

he cut down

And then they mount their horses and they jour-ney back to town.

Three things trust and cherish well, the horse

on which you ride,

The beast that guards and watches and the sis-ter at your side!

For further information on these songs, send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to:

FIREBIRD ARTS AND MUSIC

(formerly Off-Centaur Publications)

PO Box 424

El Cerrito, CA 94550