Sideral

¿Y qué si hubiese no una, sino dos lunas alrededor de

un sol violeta?

¿Serían iguales los dedos a las lombrices?

¿Serían los úteros cámaras de tortura y la sangre clorofila?

¿Puede un árbol dar origen al fantasma o sólo es el

susurro del viento que le arranca suspiros a la tierra su enemiga?

¿Por qué puedo yo respirar veneno y continuar en pie, si las

comisuras de mi esquina están corroídas y llenas de pústulas?

Quien pueda responder que no lo haga, que se mantenga

silente y ajeno. No quiero saberlo.

Ever Turning Tales. Book 1. King's Hall

They gathered in the king’s hall. All heads of the houses were present. They were allies, friends. The King was not there, but that was not a problem. No fear about a quarrel.

Some of the nobles brawl but none could even imagine drawing swords among their peers. They argued, they raised voices, but it was always for the wealth of the kingdom.

Lady Arame, head of the Vrado house and Queen of Grevonrad, ruled the meeting. Lord Ynoth, head of the Sasou house, was very active. He arrived on an enormous carriage with eight strong Peratyan mares. Braided white manes and tails, gave them a vigorous and gallant presence. Lord Ynoth brought his sister, Lady Bellitha and their two dark furred Grylari.

Lady Yttaph, head of the former royal house, the house of Casminas, was worried about the expenses of the stewards in the northern frontiers. Lady Sirod, head of the house of Tosso try to keep order while the others tried to make their opinions to prevail. Lord Ekha, head of Tethuma, house arrived after all the other. He seemed distant, not that interested in the expenses in the north.

There were matters of higher importance for the kingdom than those ordinary decisions. Finally, Lord Otersn, head of the Adimae house, also arrived to the King’s hall. He seemed very tired. He was quieter than he usually used to be in this kind of meetings. Dark news danced around his head. He had dark news for the houses and the realm.

Mourning prayer

There goes a prayer for the sleeping soul

Awaken the mind, heart to be burn

With the senses of mystery, return

As time passes by, like it would be told

How death comes swift, and yearns

So silent for the mourn

Those powerful kings of old

We learn about from ancient tales

With tearful sad misadventures

Faded their proud, shattered their fame

They lost gold, purple and wealth

Kingdoms fell on ashes and flames

Like the rivers our lives flow

Toward the sea, death to be told

Lordship, fortress and houses

To the ground, all of them will fall

Rich and poor, lustful and chaste

Will crawl in the dark lady’s embrace

Palabras para Vidolbranna

Y cuán azul puede ser un rostro sobre el mar de ojos, que dejo llagados sobre tu piel, cada vez que suspiro de entre tus ansias, mi libertad sigue oculta tras de tu silencio.

Cómo destrozar el dulce cerrojo que atenaza mis pies a tus caderas, como suben las nubes sobre una ladera, cuando al fin cede,

Soy sólo un frágil haz de luz cuando te atravieso de furor arrebatado, como un arcoiris veloz y sojuzgado, por el rocío sublime de tus párpados, empapados ellos de alegría serena.

Y no hay pena, no hay trampa, no hay cosa que pueda mecerse entre nosotros cuando dejo caer mi lanza y curo mis heridas con cada caricia que me esconde de todos los pulsos que me das para habitar mi espíritu como fruta deseada de ser mordida

Soy renovado, soy otro y todo lo debo a ser obstinado, dulce, pendenciero y tosco, pero de ti esclavo hasta que el mundo sea otro.

Odd the knight on the tale

It is said that a Knight
Life has taken as a lad
So when in the palace he is
We know the life he lives
Bread and water just one serving
and sour wine with no seasoning
Enjoy a lot and eats little
Singing songs like a madman
As he brings little clothing
Always hungry and cold he is
But always on his navel
A warm maiden will be gamboling
As for young women around

He has no longing
And singing and laughing with them
For with them he joyful is
While not eating he sure smiles
Love, kindness and friendship
Each and every breathe of life
That’s why he won’t leave palace
Not for hunt
Not for fight
Because life as a lad

He wants to enjoy, the knight

Sobre trabajos y vocaciones

Los espías, como los dioses, trabajan entre templos, ciudades y coronas. Pero la dedicación de unos es la perdición de otros.

ELLA

Hoy traté de conversar con ella. Una hembra formidable. Dijo conocerme de antes. Yo no supe que decirle, pues su apariencia se me antojaba bastante común entre las de su tipo.

Su flagrante desnudez no me desagradó, pero tampoco me alteró demasiado. Sus ojos, inquietos, me detallaron en un fugaz recorrido. Luego se acercó y comenzó a contorsionarse. Imagino que para acaparar mi atención.

Llovía. La luz que entraba por la ventana era tenue y plomiza. Sin embargo, el ruido de la lluvia parecía reverberar sobre sus pasos y el color de su tez se enfatizaba con aquella penumbra diurna.

Yo comencé a preguntarle sobre su vida. Como no contestaba, inicié algunos comentarios sobre la mía. Le señalé qué, más allá del criterio cronológico, me sentía confuso, al percibirme joven y anciano en yuxtaposición.

Ella seguía en silencio. Yo me callé y decidí esperar.

Entonces, ella se aproximó. Realizó un primer contacto con mi mano. Fugaz, casi imperceptible. Retrocedió. Pero imagino que al verme relajado decidió aventurarse. El contacto con mi mano me sorprendió bastante. Fue casi tímido, muy débil como sensación táctil. Pero su efecto en mis otros sentidos fue muy significativo.

Nos mantuvimos en tensión. Creo que transcurrió casi un minuto. Entonces atacó. Lo demás fueron gritos y contorsiones. Mi respiración se tornó entrecortada y espasmódica. Mis pulmones se hicieron pequeños y el aire comenzó a parecerme inútil y escurridizo.

Ella se apartó y huyó. No ... sólo se alejó para observar, mientras el veneno me entumecía y me paralizaba hasta darme muerte.

Aparecieron otros alacranes. Pero sólo ella permaneció tranquila, emocionada, victoriosa, al pie de la grieta en la pared.

Romance de la novia quemada

Tras las flamas dolorosas

de hechizo y odio salvaje

el ardor incineró en un instante

lo que antes días fue caro celo

se disipó bajo el cielo

lo que mis ojos más desearon

de ver los tuyos abiertos

sólo dos cuencas quedaron

para anegarse en mi llanto, que llora

vacías y aterradoras,

de verte como no puedo

Pero mi lágrima es sombra

y se desvanece en el tiempo

mientras tus dientes florecen

contra la ceniza,

tercos

y así convertida en tizón

que sólo suplica entierro

tu sonrisa como hacha ardiente

eternamente ríe al cielo

Athaloch's hill

Athaloch rode down the hilltop. It was a leaden morning. Sun appeared very shy for a moment then it hid behind great gloom dark clouds. The grass was very moist and it made him remember those last summer weeks among his people. Few days ago that same smell invited small animals to go out their dens and look for food before great predators awake.

He rode down to the base of the hill. They were waiting for him. The seven thunders of Gryna. In perfect formation, the sons of death ask him to be imprudent. Charge on them would only lead him to a trap. It was wiser to wait.

(Illegible part, because of burnings and cracks on the manuscript)

Anyway, death was for sure the most probable result of facing those semi-human creatures with purple eyes and nauseating breath. The seven thunders had been waiting all night. Their mission was to destroy that young lad with enraged look and sullen temper that was enough brave or maybe mad to challenge the goddess will.

Athaloch left his home once, when he saw the burning of the city of Tloë, even if he never rode close to the city.

(Another unreadable part that ends with “… the wrath of the goddess of the dark world”)

It was another destiny ahead on his life. He found it in a small village near to the Leigh Daar. The seven thunders of Gryna had been turning a green and blooming valley into an unbreathable waste. People were starving to death and very few children did survive their fourth birthday. Many babies did born already dead. However, the people from Khela were determined to not abandon their homes and die in their ancestor’s lands before thinking on escape from the seven demons lurking around their town day after day.

There in Khela, Athaloch realized that fate had brought him to help those brave peasants. After many years living among the wolves in Gywrd Mountains, he understood fellowship meant for humans. I addition, his will has no longer his will. He lost it in the eyes of a young girl from Khela. Thenay-Lu was beautiful, the most beautiful creature he has ever seen among the living creatures of the world. His heart was buried in Khela from the first moment he saw her that summer afternoon when he crossed the doors of the village.

Athaloch gave a soft slap to his horse’s neck. The formidable equine was sweaty and tense. Athaloch’s thoughts flew to her. He drew his sword, took the battle-ax in his left hand and raised both arms. That was the sign. The seven thunders howl and throw themselves over the warrior.

Three days after, some of the men from Khela, twelve of them arrived to the battlefield. With them also came Thenay-Lu. There was no blood. There were neither bones nor signs of violence. They just found a huge old white wolf groaning over a broken sword. None ever saw the seven thunders again. In time, the valley lands recovered its green. People from Khela were farming again. Thenay-Lu went to live in a nearby hill. She built a hut with some help of the youngsters from Khela. There she waited for her last day always accompanied by Garrna the great white wolf she found where she expected to find the corpse of Athaloch. The people from Khela began to call her the Athaloch-mawr maiden.

Nothing more was ever known about the young warrior, but the people from Khela always talk and swear about how every year when fall begins they can hear the war cry from Athaloch fighting against the seven thunders of Gryna.