Seven paces from the crevice,
Thirty yards below the chalice,
Congregate the six plus twenty more
Who’ve met us here,
Bearing gifts which lifts the spirit
Telling us of life back home,
A home that’s seen my son
Sixteen years now fully grown,
Last time our eyes met
I cried as his lips smiled
As I put the ointment above his brow,
And now comes word he’s joined the others
In quest of fire, In quest of plunder,
If ever we meet again, Will he recognize the same scars I still wear,
The boy with the stories echoed the cascade of pirates
Daring their lives entering our confines,
The council took them in,
Malnourished and ripe,
Bound for sin,
Years had passed and they grew strong,
Then sent word for their kin to come,
Underestimated the might within
The Viking sons and daughters,
I requested of my wife,
Last I heard she was with illness,
The boy apologized for the news before
He described my son beside her bed,
Sweaty rags and bloody sheets
Something wicked grew beneath her skin,
The herbs and crystals did their best,
A demon had entered in her abandoned womb
And over time it’s power groomed,
The chief and the seer gathered the others
Five of them, my wife included,
Were let one by one,
Curdling their seepage through heat of the sun,
Alas none were no more,
Haven’t been three seasons now,
Still this news was fresh to me,
A moment I shared with my brothers,
Who also had kin taken unkindly there,
We wept in union for one evening,
Then transferred our sorrow into rage and anger,
Enflamed in red, we looked instead,
Into the crevice before our flesh,
Darkened sight with howling sound,
I pity the soul of the unlucky demons
We shall inside find,
For honor, for Vikings, for love, for tribe,
When we reach the other side,
That much closer
We shall rise
Near the goal,
The chalice atop the peak above
Cloud and snow,
Death shall become all who betray our path,
The Gods have not provided passage for us
To not let us pass, soon
The chalice will be within our grasp
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