The Song of Yarselin

First Lady and last Knight of the Order Of the Lion,
Who fought Mordu lord of the Lycanthropes
In The War of the Weeping Lion. 2243BN

Ever the beast flew at Yarselin; ever she sank her blade,
Snapping jaws grasped for flesh,
Her sword plunged and flashed like a diamond splashing red on the dry ground,
She drove Mordu the wolf to the eastern cliff kicking up dust as they went,
Gulls gathered for the feast,
The wolf like a grey cloud seeking to blot out the sun
threw itself at her sun blinding mail.
At death’s stroke sword sang freely
from the hand of Yarselin.
Mordu barked with laughter,
Yarselin balled and rolled as the Mordu lunged,
The wolf vaulted over,
Sprawling its head in quick turn and poised to jump again,
Yarselin snatched up her weapon,
Looking about the wolf at the great multitude of
Silent friends, the Falcon cried in the distance.
The sea wind picked up.
The briny smell of sea whipped up the cliff from below,
A dampness wrapped its fingers around Yarselin the
Golden.
The beast lunged,
Yarselin aimed her sword at the passing shadow,
The beast landed with a howl,
Its thick sinews continued to slide,
Yarselin’s arms raised high, sword stuck fast
and eyes wide.
The lone cry of gull over head,
The deepening, whipping briny wind.