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He heard the winds cry

On to the empty shores

To the crest of the waves

By the shadows of the woods

Following the horned runes

In the stone of secrets

To the perilous paths

Reaping the dark wisdom

Mastering the arts

Blasted by the icy breath

From black waters blowing

In the forest his fire

Spun the fatal ornaments

Of the forefather's sword

Sworn to their ancient soil

Oblivious to pain and war

Enduring the cruel life

To train and march, fight and kill

Into the demoniac heart of battle

This son of north, this child of darkness

Eyes forever upon the trail

Set upon the road of eagles

Towards the alien stars

Into the master's pagan kingdom

And as he drew the oaken bow

Remembering the fiery old nights

His arrow became the eye of death

Wreathed by the nocturnal storm