The sisters in battle have returned
From terrors hid beneath the earth
And from the maze of slime and stone
Bring tales of evil birthed
The vestal maiden, scarred twice
Once by undead, once by swine
A fading lantern in our midst
What shadows cloud her mind?
The pagan, in her primal rage
Has paid her pound of heathen flesh,
A hero’s madness drives her still,
She longs to brush with death
Here comes a puzzle yet unsolved:
What man has no more use for gold?
The leper and the warrior
Still linger in the fetid caves
Do fallen men regret their deaths
Or long for proper graves?
They join the ever-swelling ranks
Of those who no more hear my song
And I, Jacques, remember them
But who can guess how long?
A riddle now, to you from me:
What man has eyes that do not see?
Three more take up their shields at dawn
With fear and courage in each breast
And armed with laughter and with song
I too shall join the quest
And so I’ll tell the heroes’ tale
Of doom and valour by the sea
But if Jacques should not return
Then who shall sing of me?
A final clue, a last mystique:
What man has lips that cannot speak?
We came for wonder and for gold
For tales of glory, gore and dread
But treasure, terror, fame and awe
Are wasted on the dead.