PS 13 For Avacal (A Poem) 
                       Master Hector of the Black Height (Ealdormere) 

There's a wind that howls from the mountains,
As harsh as a Griffon's cry:
It sings of the will of a people
That none other may damn or deny.
That wind cries out now for justice
To the sun lurking low in the east.
The wind swift will hasten the harvest
So a people in freedom will feast.

The wind and the mountains eternal
Our destiny ever proclaim.
Our will as a mountain, our swords like the wind
And Avacal proud is our name.

There's a wind that blows o'er the prairie,
As strong as a Griffon's wing:
It sings of a pride steeped in honour
That the poets forever may sing.
The wind cries out now for glory
To the sun hanging bright in the sky.
The wind will stir up the cyclone,
On its shoulders the legends shall fly.
The wind and the mountains eternal...

There's a wind that sweeps through the cities,
As sharp as the Griffon's eye:
It sings in the barracks and taverns,
At the butts where the arrows fast fly.
The wind now cries out for honour
To the sun setting far to the west.
The wind fills the sails of the raiders,
Let our swords put our fate to the test.
The wind and the mountains eternal...

There's a wind that lifts up the people,
As high as a Griffon's dream:
Our songs echo sweet from the mountains
But our songs are not all that they seem.
The wind now cries out for freedom
To the stars bright as ice in the night.
The wind rests and waits for tomorrow:
For what better prize can we fight?

The wind and the mountains eternal
Our destiny ever proclaim.
Our will as a mountain, our swords like the wind
And Avacal proud is our name