This next installment is from a Florida metal band called Black Tide. None of the members are over 21, one is 16 and one is 18. I love their debut album; Light From Above, its old school metal done with new energy and love. Metal, in general, can be pretty juvenile, and then, suddenly, can become really deep and heavy in a manner unequaled by any other musical genre. Black Tide is a group of juveniles, but they are also a group of musically talented individuals.

This song is one of the more adolescent songs off the album. And that's why I love it, for its pure adolescent imagination, obviously written by comic book reading, science fiction demented, videogame and RPG loving, freaks. It’s animated and entertaining to watch, and it’s called; Warriors Of Time. Do yourself a favor and spend a few minutes and watch it in full screen mode:




Waves of shadows move through trees. The cries of man resound throughout the eons and reverberate against the thick bark shaking it from its hold. The wolf hunts, dark like men turning away from truth to live less painful lies, purplish black lines stream through the green. The scent of agony and desperation fills its nostrils and it grunts into a rolling growl that sustains and builds in menace. A destroyer runs from him, its fear billowing out behind it. Scourge of the natural world acquiesce to the circumstance of your castigation.

Narna is running very hard, very fast, his heart pounding in his chest, his lungs near bursting. His breath is fire that burns. The sounds of the beast snapping sprigs and crushing bushes seem to echo all around him. “Where is that fucking lake?” Narna didn’t think he had traveled that far down the path, but he had already become aware that many of his senses had failed him throughout this excursion. Around him the greens and browns of tree and bush are beginning to blur together, he is becoming light headed and dizzy, losing his breath, but if he stops he dies. His footfalls begin to clap in his head and his next step seems to move ahead in slow motion until connecting to the earth with a heavy thud that thunders throughout the forest. And then again with his next stride. And again. And again. All at once time slows down and Narna’s mind begins to retreat from the totally focused, totally aware reality of the now, to a place further within him. He feels as though he is watching his slow deliberate movements from a place a few feet higher in the air. Is he giving up? Had his mind and body given in to the impossibility of escape without informing his conscious thought?


The strike of a large iron bell, so loud it shakes the ground.


Again, and then the light quick beating of a snare drum accompanied by the soft lower notes of horns. His sense of being floats above the ground, although he can plainly see his feet firmly upon it. The beating of the snare grows louder with the steady beat of a bass drum as the horns’ notes rise in intonation.


He is surrounded now by a foreboding melody hastened onward by the steady deep beat of a bass drum. He wants to stop and catch his breath and try and figure out what is going on, but the fear of the wolf almost upon him cannot be ignored even though all sense of reality has left him. Exhaustion must be overtaking him, the music, although it grows louder with every passing moment, must be inside his head. Is he failing? Is he sinking back into the claws and fanged maw of the beast behind him? This music, familiar somehow, what the hell is it? What does it mean!?!


“This is the death song; you can hear it, young Narna. You have heard it before, remember?” The voice, Narna is sure, comes from the forest. It is versed and deep with the thickness of the hinterlands. It is soothing and knowing, and Narna does not question its authenticity. He remembers this song; he has heard it when he has taken the life of an animal while hunting. In that long second when his shot has made the kill, almost subconsciously, he understood it in all its immortal majesty. He has never dwelled on it, quickly dismissed it, and eventually forgotten it. Now it beat and pulsed and sang around him, and now it called for him. This moment it was his song, ritualized for him, and tears came to his eyes.


“I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to die now.”

“That is not for you to choose, young beast of the world. The dark wolf has found you, he hungers for your meat, and he will be fed. He has his prey within his grasp, and it is the law that he must prevail. The death song is for you. Close your eyes young Narna and give in to the romantic.”


Narna’s back calf is slashed and he stumbles forward. He begins to hastily regain his footing when he is violently struck upon his left side, casting him from the path into the immense bushes and down onto his back. He reaches over to his side where he was struck and finds soft wet matter where his shirt once covered his skin. He is horrified and tries to get to his feet, but cannot move his legs anymore. He does not see it, but can smell its rank coat and hear its heavy and rasp panting, and knows that it is a few short feet from him, loathing over him, savoring the kill. The pain is incredible, rolling throughout his body with fierce stabbing edges, sustained by aches that almost render him unconscious.


A deep long growl that sends bolts of cold shivers down his back and the wolf is in the air above him. He can just about cover his face with his arms before it is on him, sinking its fangs deep into his exposed neck. The romantic has built to a crescendo, the beating of the bass drum pounding as the horns go from semitones to overtones in a pulsating melody so familiar to Narna he could swear he has heard it from birth. He is vaguely aware that the wolf is in his neck, he can feel the weight of its body pushing him into the ground and smell the dried gore on its matted fur, and now he can no longer draw air. Before he can try and choke a breath, the wolf has ripped out his throat. A sense of peace fulfills him as the soft timbre of a myriad of cymbals cascades over him. The wolf howls, lasting and lamented, and Narna is no longer aware.

The sweet song of birds extolling the magnificence of the rising sun comes from the surrounding trees as Charles and Alexander wait patiently in their hunting stand. Fully camouflaged they lie behind their .220 Swift rifles with the equipped 15x Lyman Super Targetspot scopes trained on the open area of forest below them.

“Hey Charlie?”


“What do you think happened to Narna?”

“Oh I don’t know, he probably came back to the campsite, saw that we had gone on without him, and went home. He doesn’t want to do this. Has some sort of moral objection to this kind of hunting. Whatever”

“What a whiny….”

“Shhhhh! There’s one, two o’clock, peeking its head out of the bushes.”

“It’s massive and so dark. I’ve never seen anything like it. I got it square between the eyes.”

“Patience, wait for it to come fully into the clearing first. That way if you miss we can still try and hit it before it runs away. “

“Holy shit, have you ever seen such a beast?”

“I’ve never seen a wolf like that before. I can’t believe how big it is. We are going to be famous if we nail this baby.”

“Look at all that blood in its fur, the thing must be completely savage. Hey….what was that? Did you hear that?”

“How could I miss it? What was that, a fucking bell!?! Is that…is that…music!?! What the hell?”

“This is getting weird, the wolf is looking right up here, and I swear he’s fucking grinning!”

“That music is very familiar; I’ve heard it somewhere before…”

“Shit! Charles, shit, shit, shit! It’s coming for us…what… what in God’s name?? No! AAAGGHHH!! Get it off me Charles!!! Get it…”

“Alright. Good boy. My buddy there is plenty of food. Feed on him, let me go. Yeah! Take that you fucking thing!! Take that! Wha…I shot you….damn it I…no…AAAGGGHHH…bleuckkk...uuucckk…”



For about fifty feet or so he continued, the rocky structure manifesting itself to him as he neared it. Once he could see it definitively, he paused. It wasn’t part of any mountain or hill, it could very well be man made, but that seemed unreasonable given that it had no right angles or straight edges in its design. It was simply an enormous mound made of jutting, irregular, rock. There were no other rocks or mounds of any kind near it, just the eerie ancient wood twisting about it on either side. It appeared unnaturally natural, if that’s possible, and that gave Narna goose bumps. What sent a shiver down his spine was that the path he had been walking upon lead right into a large pitch-black opening at its medial point.

“What the...,” he said aloud. It suddenly dawned on him that this wasn’t the result of his curiosity leading him astray; he had been purposely led to this destination. He began to feel deceived, but how this could have been perpetrated was a mystery. Still, he could not turn away, he was hooked and he had to see what was inside this foreboding structure, even though the thought of entering it terrified him to no end. He approached the gaping maw of the rock mound. There were no ridges or cracks, and it was not a crevice or fissure, just an opening molded in the rock as though it were clay. Slowly, with deliberate steps, he entered the lightless hollow. He had a little flashlight on his key chain and he turned it on. Surprisingly it lit up a good amount of the darkness, even though reason argued against this possibility. But if Narna was going to listen to reason, he would have turned back long ago.

The walls of the cave were piceous, and a thick liquidly substance ran down its sides and dripped from above, but there were no puddles on the floor. Narna stopped and listened for sounds and heard nothing, not even the running liquid made any noise. No shapes formed in the light of his flashlight, the cave seemed to be flat and barren, but he decided to explore a bit further before turning back. A few feet more and he began to smell it, a thick, gamy animal pungency. He could see the floor ahead begin to incline slightly with every inch. He slowly edged forward, his eyes wide and aware of any movement, every shadow, his ears aware of every squeak, any whisper, as the smell amassed robustly about him. It no longer was a hint in the air, it had become the air, and now it mixed with another smell, almost as stark in emanation. Both these smells were familiar to Narna, and both sent caution signals racing through his brain and he abruptly froze in his tracks and flicked off his flashlight concurrently.

“Wolves!” Narna shouted inside his head. “Shit! What the hell am I doing? Stupid! So stupid!”

The other smell still hadn’t been identified yet, other then to signal strict vigilance. But as he stood there and concentrated on its aroma, it began to condense, a mixture of heat, moisture, carnality and decay. “Slaughter!” He could not tell the nature of the slaughtered animal, it could be because there was a mixture of different animal kills here, or that he was not familiar with this particular animal’s death smell. “Slaughter and wolves, the last two things I want to smell together at anytime. A wolves den. You stupid idiot. OK Narna, you can get yourself out of here, quietly turn around and go out the way you came.” Just before he could turn himself around, he heard it, a scraping in the near distance, and then the snuffling of a beast trying to pinpoint a scent. He had been discovered, and by the sound of it, this was no small wolf. He did not move a muscle and listened intently for the animal’s next move. He could only hope that it would not explore the intrusion, but lay back down to sleep again. Its claws rasped against the floor as it seemed to Narna that it had begun to casually pace, awaiting a sign of movement. It must surely smell him, although the smell of carnage was very strong and might be masking his odor. He had already slowed his breathing down as much as he could, which he was very adept at, a skill honed from years of hunting. Any movement on his part, while the wolf stayed alerted, and he would be taken down. There were surely other wolves here as well, had to be at least one other, but they must be sleeping or Narna would surely hear them. Any attack from the alert wolf would bring the others down on him as well.

His hunting experience would come to bear here; he could wait motionless for hours until the right moment for him to leave presented itself. That would be nothing short of hearing that wolf lie back down. For long, long minutes he waited before he heard the large creature flop back onto the ground with a loud thump. “A good sign,” thought Narna, “it sounds as though it has given up.” Fighting his deep inquiring need to turn his flashlight back on and take a look at what must be a humongous animal and its slaughter filled den, he slowly and silently began to step toward the exit. He turned around and saw that the opening was but a small bright light a number of feet away. He had journeyed inside this cave a lot further then he had thought. Again, disappointment in himself arose at the realization that he had proceeded whilst so unaware of his surroundings.

The opening got bigger as he approached it, the light beginning to discern itself as that of the sun. “Almost there. Not but twenty feet away.” Scratching! In the distance behind him, his heightened senses picked it up instantly; the wolf was back on its feet. Narna couldn’t stop right now, he knew he should, but the fear over powered him, the exit was so close, and instead of stopping, he ran.

(END Part 2 of 3)