V looked up ahead, where spires rose above the waterfall, linked by bridges like a web of the Verasnul Spider. Finding one’s way through the maze of Upper Silmaria was a task in and of itself, but V had memorized their layout in the years he lived there, until it became second nature to him. He never had problems memorizing things, which probably was among the reasons why he got admitted there – among his natural talent for magic.

He remembered the day Nahiat first came to him. V was working as a scribe and accountant for one of the larger warehouses in the harbour, and used one of his “tricks” on a group of labourers who refused to unload a shipment they thought to be “cursed”. The trick was simple enough; he had discovered that a certain way of speaking was impressive enough for simple minds to make them do almost any task he wanted, provided it was simple and straightforward and within their understanding. It required certain images in his mind that made him act differently and gave his voice an almost irresistible command.

The shipment, it turned out, was destined for Nahiat of the Seriath, who was present overlooking the unloading, and witnessed the young man’s handling of the workers. It also turned out the shipment was indeed cursed, but that’s another story.

Nahiat was no instructor, but he knew a wild talent when he saw one, and that young man indeed had a talent for magic too precious to pass up. And so, a few days later, Kalinn of Silmaria was admitted into the ranks of the Seriath, the ruling guild of the magical city.

Managing sleep was among the first lessons they taught for the mental and physical exercise that was required to wield the magic of the Seriath. While it wasn’t the only way to gather strength for the Power, it was the most preferred one among the Silmarian guilds. Kalinn learned of other magical schools in faraway lands that included certain plants into the preparation; others used an ascetic lifestyle; still others employed meditation techniques. But sleep certainly worked best for him.

It was an important part of his life so far anyway. He found, at an early age, that depriving himself of sleep somewhat eased the chores of life, as he used to get intensely involved in his surroundings and too many things would flood his consciousness all at once if he was all awake and rested. Being tired and sleepy dulled his senses, and lessened the stream of events around him, until they became endurable, and since he also used to get fascinated with odd topics and studied them until exhaustion, not sleeping very much was fine with him.

The Seriath taught him how to be fully awake, to use this state of alertness without overloading his senses. They also showed him how to channel his talent and put it to actual use. He never paid much attention to the actual teachings of spells and rituals, as he understood magic was without shape and form, and could be channeled in any way by the right person. He was more interested in the basic principles, and the large varieties of the way magic was practiced, so he stealthily got away from his formal training and went through volumes of magical lore by himself. This finally gained him the tile of “Vanish”, which he used ever since. This, and his habit of dropping occupations, friends, acquaintances and projects without looking back whenever he felt it was time to move on.

And that’s what finally made him leave the Seriath again. He would be hard pressed to explain his reasons, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Basically, while he shared the Seriath’s values and thinking, He could see no future in the Upper City, other than being part in the endless masquerade of intrigue, ranks, politics and power. He aspired no seat in a committee, pursued no titles and claimed no power. Instead, he believed magic was to be used in everyday life. Not the life in the Upper City, but the life of ordinary people, the mud-wrestling, sweating, dirty, hard and painful life of people in Lower Silmaria, and everywhere else. And so he left the company of mages again, silently, alone, and without further thought. He had no plans, no destination, no help and no company. But he had a point to make.

They were twelve and they were fighting, their blood covering their hands
Against the growing crowd of enemies no one of them could stand
Just the youngest of our brave men was resisiting in his rage
But when he also fell, he left this world at fifteen years of age

They were twelve of the bravest men that I have ever seen
Much too young and much too courageous and much too…

And let us wonder through the day
Which words will play and which will ponder
´Til there will yonder come the May
When every play is torn asunder

Then let us seek the lady fair
Whose darkened hair flows down her cheek
And she may speak of things not there
Of things that were upon the peak

Then let us leave with higher hopes
Ride down the slopes of toil and grief
And disbelief the liars gropes
And tyrant‘s quotes of quick relief

And never glow at what might reach her
Or beseech what woe she hid
For I‘m a poet, not a preacher
Or a teacher that might know it

Just give me peace so I can cry
Bury the miles beneath a tree
While on the breeze the willows fly
And scenes rush by that stop to breathe

And while we sleep, let‘s take the time
To see what‘s mine beneath this heap
Some coffeehouse where poets rhyme
Where turrets climb and angels weep

How late it is how very late, how late it is tonight
The time has come to seal my fate, but I‘m afraid to fight
How cold it is, oh yes, how cold, how cold it is in here
I fear that I am much too old, it‘s living that I fear

I think there was some other way, yes I think once there was
But now it has just gone away, has disappeared at last
What I have been is with me now, a shadow hanging slow
It seems I just forgot to sow and so I‘m reaping snow

How did I get here, I don‘t mind, how did I get this far?
There was a dream I could not find, a somewhat fallen star
My dreams have gone, my friends have fled, at last I‘m still alone
And tired lay myself to bed, sleep under a tombstone

When suddenly and silently a melody very strangely
Came creeping up on me
I heard it sing the chaos swing
I pull the string and also start to sing

Maybe all my love is gone and maybe I had never won
Maybe I have got to go and maybe it is all a show
Maybe I‘ve to walk alon and maybe my heart‘s made of stone
Maybe I will fall, maybe there is still the wall
And maybe, maybe, maybe it‘s for all

But I will never raise a cry and I will never ask you why
Never will I leave the field and never will I start to yield
And I will always walk the land and I will always make a stand
And there will always be a song that always helps me get along

I don‘t live next to gods and ghosts
Or any supernormal host
It‘s only sometimes that I see
A spider crawling next to me

And though it seems I am aloof
And speak of things I cannot proof
It is not me that talks this way
I only speak the words they say

So when you see me there or now
Don‘t follow me, for I must go
I’m not the fire on the wire
Or someone to take you higher

I’m not a symbol or a letter
Or the good one getting better
I am not fellow, friend or fore
Or the field you reap or sow

I am no sign leading the way
And for your sake I will not stay
I cannot stand across the sun
I‘m just a poet with a gun

I stumbled through the half-torn light
Past fireplace and writing-desk
And found to my own great delight
The puzzle in the raven‘s nest

I see the corner of the evening
Paint a picture of the sun
Of all the songs I used to sing
I can’t remember even one

I found where Tom Waits lives and roams
And when the evening passed me by
I smoked a pipe from Sherlock Holmes
And drank of Philip Marlowe‘s rhye

Tell me, river, tell me lies
Of peace and immortality
When already behind your skies
The spider spins a web for me

You cannot undo that which happened in the golden afternoon.
The towers were too high to stand and promises were made too soon.

A long time I’ve been watching now that shadow fallen in the west.
I’ve seen it coming, seen it grow, disintegrating our best.

And now its armies march along the borderlines of foreign shores
And every battle they had won served just to satisfy the whores.

Your heart, where once the towers stood is black of greed and tyranny
And every tower raised again will be a gravestone for the free.
No rest, no peace, no liberty.

If you ever wondered why they‘re talking of the world
And if you ever thought it would be time the truth unfurled
And if you ever told yourself to take a look behind
Then it‘s about you‘d better change your mind.

We do the world, we keep it spinning
Falling drunken through the sky
We do the world, we keep it going
Without ever asking why

In all this time of crimson glory
Nothing ever would decline
So let‘s start the dance
And do the world one more time

For if there were something like castles built on sand
And if there was the grip of an unseen destiny‘s hand
And even if you never stop dreaming in shades of grey,
Be sure to let these threads come take you away.

Close your mind and take a dive into hypnotic waters five
Through ever-shifting lands of pages never in our hands.
Be careful where you step and never try to leave the web.
Behind your fear the spider draws you near.

Für Feuerball und kaltes Licht
Wie leicht doch dieser Himmel bricht
Erdrückend scheint mir ihr Gewicht
Was sie bewegt versteh‘ ich nicht

Und flöge ich wohl hoch hinaus
Hinein ins Himmelsangesicht
Das Ewigkeiten mir verspricht
Vor Traum und Tag wär‘ ich zuhaus

Ein Auge ist‘s, das wandert fort
Hinweg über den Himmelssee
An dessen Ufern ich nun steh‘
Und seh‘ wie es verschwindet dort

Und dennoch greife ich zum Himmel
Nach der Sterne ferne Bahn
Und halte fest die leere Luft
Die sich doch nicht wehren kann.

A thousand times I shed my skin
Changed my colour and my kin
Sought not to flee and not to win
But to be free of right and sin

And never go where others go
Or follow those that seem to know
Yet teach and preach and say and pray
And lead the feeble youth astray

I wonder if a poet’s cursed
Ever to walk in misery
And always end up black and bruised
While all the world is calm and free

And though I fought and though I tried
And strove for balancing the weight
I still am cast between the might
Of gaping shade and blinding light

Beware the lure of the extremes
The cheap truth and the cheaper schemes
But as I lie here, my own dreams
Beware of Balance, as it seems

The mirror‘s yet another me
To persecute and tie
And shadows fall there evenly
Where faceless heroes die

While snakes are coiled upon the granite
Time will not pass by
The west is closed throughout the hight tide
Further than July

Another bridge will burn tonight
And fire won‘t know why
And in the glassy morning light
You‘ll find me, I‘m the sky