"Defence of Melchior" by Ben Cameron

His breath came quick, staccato beat

Past homes of mud and fields of wheat

And serf and wife, asleep, replete

But he dreamed not of peasant’s days

But rather, fields and homes alight, ablaze

Beneath the stars of Melchior

The road ran by beneath his feet

‘cross sand and dirt, twixt track and street.

He brought them knowledge of the fleet

That crossed the skyline yesterday

Whose crimson sails did not allay

The fears of those from Melchior

So run he did, till king he neared

To whom he gasped the message, feared

And then he bowed and volunteered:

“Return, I will, with blade in hand

I’ll lead your men to make a stand

Before the seas of Melchior”

His gangly legs flew swift and fast

Setting a pace which few surpassed

Behind him moved, from first to last,

Two thousand men, each twice the age

And far more skilled than our young page

Born in the town of Melchior

Their camp was struck within the hour

And men were placed atop their towers

To scour the seas, whilst townsfolk cowered

Within the trees and hidden glades

And leapt at noises, darkened shades

Before the seas of Melchior

                            ~ * ~

On ships of pain from Hell’s own gates,

Across the heaving, churning straits,

Behind their monstrous armoured plates,

Beneath their scarlet sails, strained

Their voices screamed demonic pain

Across the seas to Melchior

Aboard were shamans, priests of sin

From whence sprung vice that flowed within

And swept around in fervid spin

Of screaming souls and tortured dead

To bolster craven hearts of dread

Which rowed the ships to Melchior

Their horns gleamed dimly in the light

From fiery brands, burnt day through night

And jagged teeth stretched rank flesh tight

Their ragged wings hung by their sides

But useless in their awkward strides

Across the ships to Melchior

                            ~ * ~

The monstrous boats came drawing nigh

Their hulls rode low with hellish cries

Beneath the red streaked, evening sky

The men stationed to scout the seas

Gave warning shout across the breeze

To those below in Melchior

All men prepared, from knight to lord

And our young page drew out his sword

He’d fight with them against the horde.

The priest tugged hard the belfry rope

The loud, clear tones instilling hope

In those that stood in Melchior

Unearthly cries tore through the air

To those armed men, awaiting there

Who looked to God in final prayer

As beasts charged out of blighted ships

With bloodied pikes and vicious whips

To the shores of Melchior

On either side the blood spilled fast

But, bravery was unsurpassed,

Throughout the battle, as it passed,

By the boy, who gripped his sword

With childish pride against the horde

Of Lords of Hell in Melchior

Just small enough to go unseen

He ducked and wove, and slipped between

Those that fought throughout the scene

And though the sword was hard to bear

He carried on through curse and prayer

As he fought in Melchior

But rare it is that prayer suffice

When life depend upon the dice

Of Fate, who must extract the price

That must be paid, when youthful life

Tries too hard to combat strife

As it was in Melchior

For bound it was that some fiend see,

Amidst the fighters and debris

That boy, and quick though he may be

One arcing blade he failed to guess

The first he’d missed, but, nonetheless

Came death to sleepy Melchior

He felt it sink, that rusted blade

Through flesh and bones, and there it stayed

The sounds of steel began to fade

His agony an escape from war

A path for him to Styx’s shore

Within the town of Melchior

As darkness swept o’er youthful eyes

He grasped the blade in pained surprise

But war waged on ‘neath smoky skies

Regardless of his mortal pain

And men fought on ‘gainst beasts arcane

Who’d come to tiny Melchior

He joined the ranks of those who’d died

An endless line, a spectral tide

And next to him, on either side,

Were those he’d fought, against and with

But none looked back to see who won

In coastal Melchior