far- The Forest did not stay Dark Death, nor did the mountains
bar. And Vanyel cried-”We die, my liege, and know not why
nor where! So send me North my King, that I may find the answers
there!”
Then North went Vanyel-not alone, though 'twas of little
aid
A Bard was like to be to him; and Stefen was afraid-He feared that he would fail the quest, a burden prove to
be- Dared not let Vanyel go alone to face dark sorcery.
So out beyond the Border there, beyond the forest tall, Into the mountains deep they went that stood an icy wall- To find the wall had cracked and found there was a passage
new, A path clean cut that winding ran a level course and true.
This path was wrought by magecraft; Vanyel knew that when
he saw The mountains hewn by power alone, a power he felt with
awe- But to what purpose? Something moved beyond them on the trail;
They watched and hid-and what they found there turned them cold and pale.
An army moved in single file, by magic cloaked and hid- An army moved on Valdemar that marched as they were
bid-
A darker force than weaponry controlled the men and place, For Vanyel looked-and Vanyel knew an ancient evil's face.
Then Vanyel turned to Stefen, and he told the Bard to ride To warn the folk of Valdemar-”They call me 'Magic's Pride.'
It's time I earned the name-now go! I'll hold this army back Until the arms of Valdemar can counter their attack.”
So Stefen rode, and so it is no living tongue can tell How Vanyel fought, nor what he wrought, nor how the Herald fell.
The Army came-but not in time to save the Herald-Mage, Although the pass was scorched and cracked by magic power's rage.
They fought the Dark Ones back although they came on
wave by wave. No trace they found of Vanyel, nor of his Companion
brave-They only found the focus-stone, the gift of Stefen's hand- Now blackened, burned, and shattered by the power that
saved their land.
They only found the foemen who into the woods had fled And each one by unseen, uncanny powers now lay dead. As if the Forest had somehow bestirred itself that day- Had Vanyel with his dying breath commanded trees to slay?
And still the forest of the North guards Valdemar from harm-
For Vanyel's dying curse is stronger far than mortal arm.
And every year the Chosen come, despite the old advice-
“All those who would be Magic's Pride must then pay Magic's Price.”