Faces of Thera

A sampling of the dedicatory songs of Sereniel Quis.

'Domaris'

- A dedication to my brother Sarrat Vonyeleta and his wife Domaris.

A Ranger is trained to hunt

To fade into the trees To track a griffyn across the sky To smell danger on a warm, summer breeze

But a Ranger hunt a Ranger? How is that to be? How, if the prey is the fair Domaris And the hunter, Halfling Sarrat, waitng upon bended knee?

For her charms had him ensnared

Surer than any faerie spell And as she'sa around his trails came Sarrat, with her, deeply in love fell

To catch her, though

Aye, that was the trick To catch the Ranger, and hold her Without allowing her to escape, back into the thick

So he had waited and waited

And waited And waited And waited

And finally, when she in a purty Elfin gown

In front of him stepped He lept out! And tackled her to intercept

To catch a Ranger unawares

Is a rare chance But the Halfling Ranger, with his skill Did his fair lady romance

And as the romance grew

Into affection warm and secure Was I given leave their song to sing That their love may everlasting endure.

'Papa'

- A gift from his surrogate daughter.

Brick by brick, stone by stone

One atop the other So easy to see, it's so easy to see A chip, chip in the mortar

So alone, you say. So cold, you say. This one alike no other Not so easy to see, really hard to see How he could be a father

Not to me, I say. Not at all, I say. Not this one behind the mortar Can you not see, is it that hard to see Why I'd become his daughter?

Duty 'tis there. And reserve, there, too. As he looks toward his daughter But if you look, you'll see, really look, you'll see In his eyes, eyes there is laughter.

Love and warmth and care and concern

Within those eyes of laughter And if you're lucky, you'll see, lucky as me, you'll see A strength to guide you hereafter.

So farewell to the brick and the stone and the wall

Look through that chip, chip in the mortar And on the other side, you'll see, not a surprise, you'll see The daughter standing next to her Tower.

'Wind Carrier'

- The story of Band of Light member Kylthioras Ardent.

That the Winds might carry my voice

Breathless, haunting through the Therian night Sing I now of Their champion An Elven-son, Paladin of the Light

The song of a shattered boy, hiding in shadows. Destiny unsettled by the West tempestuous Wind. Fearing the dark Gabriel, but not submitting That he might into the Light ascend.

The South Wind, e'er tranquil, e'er warm

Does his coming of age contain In Sanctuary schooled in war and legend By the Father, Silver Paladin, who must his son train.

The child-man, his breath on the East Wind caught

Chosen of the Winds, son of prophesy Such young shoulders to bear such burdens His life forfeit to the Winds' decree.

The final Wind sings of that not seen

The singing of the blade As it clashes in righteous combat Thundering from the North, the long-awaited Crusade

Long roads await this child of fate

And the Winds may seem bitter cold But as my voice, its destination finds Will his story be ne'er more untold.

'Rest'

- In conclusion, a dedication to my mentor Herald Eldrigal Shrythara. (A note about the music: The accompaniment is a melodic arrangement of the High Elven 'Ihril Ir'inia'.)

Wearying, isn't it

This great world of ours? Long dusty roads, tumultous waters Thousands of steps to the tops of the towers

Wearying, isn't it

The ignorance of this land? So brutal-cold, so indolently blind An hourglass emptied of its sand

Wearying, isn't it

That driving need? Knowledge intoxifying, madd'ning Ne'er satisficing your intellectual's greed

Wearying, aren't they

Duty's constant demands? A prisioner's dilemma, power at a cost The Master subject to Responsibility's commands

Amazing, isn't it

That you love this hell? Smile unfettered by a lifetime's demands Your soul youthful 'neath that icy shell

But wearying, isn't it

To hear your song sung? To look back at the years, your dreams, those endless leagues And know that you have only just begun...