Accolade Winner Showcase May Accolade Winners Tracy Shults-Wright

The Necromancer

By Tracy Shults-Wright

Our oppressor is subdued,
His head is swinging from a pole.
Defiled body lying nude,
... I see his blood was black as coal.
A blood-red moon has overcome
... in battle with the clouds.
His heartless reign shall have an answer
... all souls fear the Necromancer.

It’s so easy to believe that words can easily deceive a wretch whose 
fighting for his mind
... he slips into the dark design.
Our King is dead,
His blood is shed
... his subjects feast this night.
They feel they are free and that is all that they’ve conceived.
My heart is rent within me ,
For I know they’ve been deceived.

The tears I shed are turned to ice
He spies me in the shadow.
Within my mind rings wicked laughter,
“So? You know me noble bastard!”
“ Your tongue shall rot within your mouth,”
“Your soul shall strive to speak,”
“Of the deal between your King and I.”
“Your noble blood flows much too weak.”

Our King was once a mighty man,
His judgement undefiled.
No subject knew a want for bread...
His heart was wrought with right desire.
I think our God then turned away His face to test our faith...
Our people, they cried as our children died,
On our streets paved deepest black with our grief.
Our King and noble wise men fell to silence in confusion 
... in darkest shame to lack an answer,
Turned in fear to Necromancer...

“I know the reason for your journey.”
“There is no need for you to speak.”
“What I ask is such a pittance, when compared to what you seek.”
“This is my price, you’ll find it fair-“
“Your Majesty, a lock of hair...”

He pulled a ruby blade with reverence,
From a ruby sheath
And uttered incantation unto the lock’s release.
And as he split the final strand,
The blade did slip within his hand
And cut my good King’s head
As such, for then he bled.

Then, to each of the Four Winds the wizard gave a drop of the blood
And darkness fell with demon laughter
On us...
Like a flood.

I woke up on the road sped forth in wild flight...
Through the wood my steed was leading,
I slowed...
Recalled that His Highness was bleeding
I turned to see my King,
His eyes aglow and pulsing red
The devil’s own
A living dead
... sword poised to take my life...

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