On
the Steps of the Temple of Deoch
by Clockwork
of Dark Ages
The Dreamers'
Mass has ended
the temple returns
to the mundane laity
and we file from
this grand church
an army of heroes
and poets,
laughing and
talking
returning to
our homes and hunting grounds
The wide-eyed
children of Suomi are here
whispering and
pointing
They've come
to see the Aislings
the fierce and
splendid champions
their rich embroidered
robes
their glittering
weapons
The children
stare and giggle
as the throng
of supermen streams down the steps
diverging into
twos and threes
grouping into
their factions and cliques
but
I am alone
I remember this
temple empty and ruined
We played here,
my Beloved and I,
the clockmaker's
daughter and the servants' son
when we were
only children
no taller than
these,
hiding between
the dusty broken pews of the great hall
chasing each
other through dim passages
staring at the
ruined friezes depicting pagan rituals
drunken orgies
to the god of debauchery
We were so innocent,
my Beloved and I
in those days
before the gods returned
and before the
Advent of the Dreamers
O, great stones
of the temple do you remember my beloved?
Do you remember
her laughter pealing through this vast stone hall?
I remember stolen
kisses
We did not yet
know those years had become Deochs,
when we were
the clockmaker's apprentice and his daughter
Our love was
still bright and new
on that day
when everything
changed
the day the first
Aislings came to Suomi
We watched them,
my Beloved and I,
their grand entry
pennants and
banners snapping in the breeze
the serene monk,
the scowling wizard, and
the beautiful,
proud warrior
(she smiled when
she saw us watching)
they rode past
us on their mighty warhorses
their retinue
of mundanes marching proudly behind
toward the town
hall
and
after that day
our parents would speak
in hushed tones,
of dark incursions
from unholy realms
strife amongst
the gods
and the thin
line of light holding back the darkness
O, great stones
of the temple, do you regret the loss of devotion so profound?
Do you mourn
for our great passion felled in its full bloom?
I remember the
call, the terrible, beautiful call
a chorus of a
thousand angels screaming in my head
calling me to
Mileth
demanding to
be answered
I left my master
without a thought, forsaking my trade
I cast away my
family
I betrayed my
friends
and I abandoned
my Beloved
to reach for
that prized pearl
the precious
spark
I remember fever-dreams
of ancient gods, on my journey
a storm-tossed
ship
a kind priest
who fed me
the beating the
soldiers gave me
and then there
was my Beloved, my beautiful Beloved,
with me on my
journey
I do not know
where she found me, or when
only that she
was there
steadying me
when I stumbled
through the gates of the city
along the avenues
until I reached
the battered hotels of the poor
and finally collapsed
to be reborn
They think I
am so fearless
when I go to
meet the lumbering horde
when I battle
the twisted minions of the enemy
when I descend
into the crypts
They sing now
of my glorious bravery
my endless war
against the darkness
If they only
knew
how I long for
the enemy's welcome embrace
to be torn from
this world
to be hurtled
through the aether
to spend a few
hours in the sinister realm
for a few moments,
to be complete
I never wanted
more than the tradesman's life
a simple home,
enough for my Beloved and I, a few children…
the finery of
the Aislings, the disciplines of the monks
these calloused
hands
accustomed to
killing
are strange and
empty to me
The clock-maker's
apprentice is so far gone now;
only I remain
this scarred
soldier of light
trapped in the
labyrinth of Temuair
O, ancient temple,
long-forgotten
cathedral of the Light-Bringer,
Your finery has
been restored
Plush velvet
tapestries from Rucesion
Intricate facades
repaired by the master stoneworkers of Loures
New pews carved
by the woodworkers of Mileth
After the long
centuries, the priests have replenished your congregations
Gathered your
worshippers back from the wilderness
Your god has
returned home,
burning brightly
with newfound redemption
O, great stones
of the temple
do you pity me?
You have regained
your soul
and I have lost
mine
I remember the
warm summer air
thick with the
sweet, cloying scent of the Garden
I remember the
lutes of the musicians
and sharing a
tankard of hot, spicy wine
deep in the woodlands,
at the Celebration of Glioca
on the night
my Beloved died
I was so eager
for acceptance
the novice monk
and his Mundane lover
so desperate
for the blessing
of Aisling society's
elite
I was bright
with my new power, giddy in the full bloom of our love
I remember kissing
her cheek by the fire
as we listened
to the old epic songs
then
suddenly
the blood-curdling
scream of a child
and then they
were upon us
huge dark forms
loping into the clearing
the strangled
battle-cries of the goblins filling the air
mixed with the
terrified cries of celebrants
fleeing into
the trees
I stood fast
with my brothers
shouting our
cries -- tzaaii! tzaaii!
leaping through
the air
battering the
monsters with kicks and punches
we fought so
fiercely, my brothers and I!
but
for every one
killed,
three more came
until,
one
by
one
we began to fall
I remember crawling,
with both of my legs broken
at the end of
the battle
through the perfumed
plants
searching
until I found
her
crumpled and
bleeding
I do not know
if she was already dead then
or soon would
be
I held her in
my arms, and wept
she was so beautiful,
through tear-blurred eyes
I kissed her,
one final kiss
tasting bruised
lips, broken teeth
and then they
found me
the wicked brutes
of the forest
I remember
being yanked
into the air
hot, rancid breath
yellow-fanged
maw closing on my shoulder
wrenching
my arm away
watching the
wretched beasts rip the meat from it
crack the bone,
suck the marrow
as the cold twilight
enveloped me
and then
strange turning,
hot, intoxicated half-sleep
hurtling between
the realms towards the faraway light
turning again
until
I was standing
my body transfigured,
angelic, mute
my beloved beside
me there
in the realm
of the shadows
the terrible
resonance of the great chamber of souls
singing with
dark power -- yet silent
the great, rotting
form of the Attendant regarding us
pointing his
skeletal finger at me
and then I was
hurtled again, back through the aether
to my resurrection
in Temuair
O, great stones
of the temple, how can I unfold this gnarled heart?
Where is the
key that unlocks the tragic accord?
How long must
I wait for the cruel, glowering sun to pass beneath that distant horizon?
When will I regain
my lost soul?
How many times
have I slipped from this bright world
fled from Danaan's
hot gaze
to that shadowy
realm?
every time she
is waiting there
gazing at me
in mute sorrow
so silent, so
sad, so beautiful
until the bony
finger points
the compact of
the League of Darkness is honored
and I am restored
to the living earth;
the conscript
of the gods returned once more to their chosen battleground
the pawn returned
to his rank
O, great stones
of the temple,
how long must
I search?
When will I find
the answer to this riddle?
I have deciphered
the ancient scrolls of the great Library of Loures
translated the
lore of the Mukul
interpreted the
hieroglyphic walls of the Temple of Veil
And
the Pact cannot
be broken
I am no closer
to escaping this sunlit labyrinth
Deoch's Gift
has bound me to this living world
so gloomy, so
barren to me now
When shall I
break this cruel cycle, and slip finally into the welcoming night?
When will I become
whole again?
I am alone now,
alone on the
steps of the temple of Deoch
the last mundane
priest smiles and nods as he hurries past
leaving me to
my thoughts
the sun is high
in the sky now
and the children
of Suomi are long gone
only I remain
and the brutal,
silent stones of the temple
--Valdemar "Clockwork" Norrsbruck