"Federain" by Leigh *Shwin* Erickson

A distant land, still crude and wild,

the winters harsh, the summers mild;

from that grim land came Fate’s cursed child;

the bearer of all scars.

Cloaked in shadow and defiance,

dagger screaming his alliance,
forced by Fate into compliance;

blessed by the flaming stars.

His hair a night soaked copper hue;

sharp eyes that sent the heart askew-

a mesmerising, gentle blue,

like clear sky caught and bound.

His skin glowed as imprisoned flame,

yet he and shadow were the same-

no colours fair adorned his frame,

nor was his dress profound.

No fine adornments did he wear

yet ev’ry maid of him aware

sought his affections to ensnare

but all he turned away.

They cursed him then, the shadow’s bane

not knowing they wooed him in vain-

for none could have fair Federain:

the one fate would betray.

His gait was smooth, his wisdom deep;

his gentle hands wooed light to sleep

and so kept safe from darkest keep’

the light was free to rest.

For safe, it felt, in his fair hands-

its essence wrapping him in bands

of light and shadow- darklit sands;

he never failed light’s test.

*

Born deep within a dark-swathed glade,

His father Fate, his mom a maid

birthed from dark shadows; black arrayed;

Despising all but night

His life a test of light and skill;

for him, his mother, wished to kill.

Though birthed of dark his presence still

shone out with brilliant light.

His birth a curse, his life his doom-

for blunder he had little room-

his brilliance hunted by her gloom;

His father never stirred.

Soon light and shadow cursed his soul-

survival dear, his only goal-

from him the huntress smoothly stole

the life his light incurred.

He shivered always, haunted dark.

No rest was his, for nightmares stark

revealed to him the deathless mark

of gloom that stained his soul.

His tears were silent, never loud

he knew no comfort was allowed

the son of Gloom and Fate so proud

he’d never be made whole.

It shook him deep when Fate arose

and seemingly his lost son chose

from all his sons the one whose clothes

were stained with dark and doom.

Sweet Federain, alone so long,

ne’er noticed something deeply wrong

within the loving, light-filled throng

that kept dark from his room.

His gladness caused sweet eyes to weep

and nightmares never touched his sleep

while resting in his father’s keep-

it seemed he’d found his place.

He lived in peace and gladness graced

his every move, the dark defaced

from his black dreams. The fear erased

from his movements and his face.

His father, Fate, watched with great pride

persuading even dark’s allied

to think that even as light shied-

he loved his dark-birthed son.

He spoke with him, the boy all grown,

of dark and lands where no light shone

his hate of dark Fate sought to hone

to lure him from the sun.

For even as his son grew wise

in light born ways, in dark’s demise,

his star was falling from pure skies

and slipping into night.

Fate sent his son out on a quest,

“My son, I wish you fair light’s best

as through the shadow’s thrice cursed chest

you plunge this bade of light.”

The loving son ne’er saw as Fate,

his father, wicked, moved to sate

his bride’s intense and horrid hate

for Federain, their boy.

“Take this- use her to lift night’s mark.”

It seemed a gift, but truth was stark:

the dagger bound him to the dark;

its cursed robbed him of joy.

And here, bound to his fated task

his knew the curse; who knew who’d bask

in joy when death ripped off the mask

of life his shell now wore.

For Federain, by Fate betrayed,

had bound his life to his grim blade

so not in life, but death arrayed

he left his home once more.

The flaming stars, his only light,

so sweet reached out in his dark night

to soothe and try to ease his plight

as ‘neath the sky he moved.

He wandered mortal lands once more

his curse made men his soul abhor

but still he walked to darkest shore;

Fate’s curse, by hate, was proved.

*

He came a darklit summer night,

and though he claimed no earthly might,

before him shadows fell to flight

and trembled when he passed.

He walked alone and sought no aid,

relying singly on his blade,

far too aware that when dark played

all others were out-classed .

He stayed not long and took his leave

one shadowed, moonless winter’s eve;

a warrior’s soul no dark could cleave

his heart, in silence, bore.

He journeyed only when dusk fell

and shrank from day as men would hell

for in the light he dared not dwell-

his soul’s bleak metaphor.

He moved in time to night’s black hymn

accomp’nied by the starlight dim

soft harm’nies fading with the slim

bright shafts of unborn day.

He wandered long ‘til dawnlight shone

upon the path he’d walk alone-

a lifeless land of rock and stone

that was Fate’s chosen way.

Though brief his soul was dimmed by fright

he did not curse life for his plight-

he knew his path was bound to light

beyond death’s endless shore.

So armed by life and clothed by death

he journeyed where no soul drew breath-

his dagger keen, the shibboleth

that bound him evermore.



The sky was dim; no daylight fell

as through thick fog: the shrouds of hell;

no sound was heard save clear the knell

that marked the river red.

The day was dark for sunlight shrank

from shores where deep of death souls drank;

the bloodied shores of death’s draught stank:

the River of the Dead.

Poor Federain, for long he fought

to find the strength of his soul wrought

to capture all restraining thought

and cross the stream of pain.

And as he moved to test his skill

in combat with air that could kill

there rang a voice so fair yet chill,

“What are you, shadowsbane?”

He turned and found before him there

a shadowed maid with raven hair

her beauty as a silken snare

that pulled the soul away;

for she and night had merged as one

forever fleeing from the sun

her presence was as shadow spun

dispersing with the day.

“Who are you, man?” She asked again-

her being, in death, a denizen;

her eyes deep wells as though night’s pen

drew substance from their dark.

“I am,” he said, but stopped, subdued

his voice, he realised, was imbued

with fear and words then did elude;

his hope a fragile spark.

She chuckled soft to see his face

so dark stained light could not erase

the shadows strewn in ev’ry place-

his eyes alight with dread.

“You are?” she prompted him once more

so certain he would soon implore

of her to free him from this shore

and bind him to the dead.

He shivered once but then grew still

and drew his blade with practised skill

in silence raising it until

it caught the dark of death.

At first she laughed with mocking eyes,

“No blade can save you from demise.”

“Perhaps you do not recognise

the blade that steals your breath?”

He watched as silent fear untold

surrounded her as bitter cold-

it seemed her visage, fair, grew old-

she shrank from him, alarmed.

“Fate’s son,” she moaned, “The one betrayed

who with life armed and death arrayed

will carry light’s all-felling blade

Dark’s death are you, so armed.”

He nodded, sullen, “As you say

I am the one armed by the day

the one light sent to dark to stay

its bitter hand with life.”

He paused, his face in sharp contrast

to words so bold, his form downcast

You know my fate,” He said at last

and sheathed his slender knife.

A silence fell and slowly pried

words from the wraith who with pain sighed

“I wasn’t always on dark’s side

I’ll aid you on your way.”

But Federain looked on with doubt

“Why help light’s chosen who, without

me, cannot stave the shadowed shout

that marks the death of day?”

“I’ll aid you for I once was kin

with light before in mortal sin

I fell forever, trapped within

the dark of death and hell.

No choice of mine.” Her voice was cold

defiance turned her frail form bold,

“I swear I will to you uphold

my being before I fell.”

He spoke, though doubt still stained his voice,

“It seems I have no other choice

and while I do not glad rejoice

I cannot cross alone.”

“You speak the truth; this river feeds

on mortal blood; their lives it bleeds

upon the pale and flowing reeds

and makes their souls its own.

You cannot cross alone,” she sighed.

Fair Federain, to life allied

quick summoned forth his broken pride

and nodded t’wards the stream

“We go then, Lady birthed of dark

I thank you, for this staining mark,

will sure subject you to a stark

pain I can’t even dream.

For grudges held by hell are strong;

you give your life to stay the wrong;

you will be with the deathless throng

of light when all is done.

I swear to you this fair reward

for saving me from dark birthed sword,

for straying from the dark accord

that keeps you from the sun.”

She nodded, pale, and strode ahead

to where dwelled, thick, souls of the dead

fast feasting on the river red,

and raised her slender hands

“Grant passage safe across your keep

throw not this man to dungeons deep

where he will find eternal sleep-

do as his soul commands”

There fell a horrid, sickly light

blood’s hue as though drawn from pale fright

the life from souls had taken flight

and made a slender bridge

“Cross now,” she said, “’fore its collapse;

‘fore magic fades and my hands lapse.

I cannot stay where cool light taps

so vainly ‘cross the ridge.”

He bowed to her and stepped so still

on bridge o’re waters dead and chill;

death to fall, a deadly spill

to blackness evermore.

“I’ll find you, lady, ‘cross the veil

where stars so gentle, light so pale,

grim earth’s dead heroes kindly hail;

I’ll find you ‘cross death’s shore.”

Their eyes, in faith, met bright once more,

but as his feet touched death’s grim shore

the Dark, enraged, his maiden bore

away- to her pained tomb-

then wraith and river fell to grey;

a single sob he could not stay

‘fore furthering his cruel assay

into the world of gloom.