Lady of the Stone

On sunlit stone, on garden square,
Raising her blade into misty air,
Her statue stands of years passed here,
A reminder of a time bathed in fear.

Though the darkness is gone, the battle won,
The land now freed from a war bard's drum,
I shall let you live on as my dreamed one,
Lady of the Stone in shade and in sun.

It has been long since she stood here so,
A time my old age recalls quite slow,
But if you sit beside the flowers low,
I shall tell you this tale of which I know.

On eve of fall when sun ripes away,
And gives course to the fiery day,
Fair maiden she stood, and stood to say,
"I shall end the weary light's decay!"

And so she planned out her own dear fate,
Knowing the situation could no longer wait,
And called to the crowd, "Mark this date!
One year I return, not early, not late."

*

The crowd was uneasy, the old ones unsure,
Could she bring back the long needed cure?
Prayers were recited to saints dead and pure,
But still the path ahead was most obscure.

Cutting through mist like an arrow fine,
She followed the path of careful design.
On loyal horse through light and dark time
As shadow and figure played on her mind.

When all seemed calm and the moon sleeping,
The owl howling and the wind weeping,
Shadow stalked shadow with darkness creeping,
And out from the foliage the beast came leaping.

The lady unprepared for an attack then,
Knowing that this was foe and not friend,
Embraced for an impact to shield and defend,
But lady and creature ended up in the fen.

The struggle endured along the ground,
Survival or death the two were then bound.
Before the maiden was gone by blow and pound,
The creature's heart her sword swiftly found.

*

She stood the victor, the creature slain,
Though she had injuries and brutal pain.
And amidst the trees and falling rain,
The wind called out, "Don't go insane."

She looked for her horse to escape the glade
As she sheathed her bloody katana blade,
But the horse was gone, it did not stay
For fear that it would too be prey.

The maiden looked far and she looked near,
But no comfort did she find anywhere.
All she saw were the woods and tears.
"This fen will be my tomb," she logically feared.

She walked for days and longer it seemed,
Surviving on food conjured from dreams,
Drinking the water from tainted streams,
And talked to trees that whispered and screamed.

Figures she saw that danced in the night,
Shapes and shadows that played with the light,
Led her through to the most peculiar sight,
Where she stood before a house of unspoken might.

*

Inside the home with the most unwelcoming door,
With cobwebs and bloodstains from ceiling to floor,
She found the cauldron, though filled no more,
The cause of the illness, the start of this lore.

She studied the books that littered the place,
Reading of magic and theories of space,
Of angels and demons and things not of grace,
Until she felt the gaze on her face.

He stood in the corner, silent as can be,
And parted his lips and hands in glee.
She knew who it was, she knew it was he,
The dark wizard was the one there she did see.

The two fought hard, magic against skill,
Power and greed against courage and will.
The mage drank from a cup until he was filled,
And then with a blow the dark wizard was killed.

She freed the land from the dark mage's grip,
As he hung from her blade and off he did slip.
She took his cup, the remains on his lip,
And so held the chalice for all now to sip.

*

She looked for a cure but none was found,
And realized to the journey she was still bound.
Then, reading the notes, a sigh was the sound,
"Look for the sun," she read, "mortal and round."

She left the dark house set alone in the fen,
She left the wicked home, the wizard's black den,
And traveled north to a port named way back when,
There asking the old ones to help her then.

They told of a garden only the wisest do know,
Where the fruit is so sweet, the sweetest to grow.
So she traveled by sea, her only means to go,
On a merchant's boat amidst the morning sea flow.

But wind raged hard and shadows filled the sky,
And clouds hovered low and waves hovered high.
Countless were lost, and by seconds more died,
As the maiden held on with tears she cried.

For days she floated, adrift at sea,
Alone and scared, but from shadow free.
"If I make it alive," to the heavens she decreed,
"My journey's not ended, I promise this thee."

*

When sun rose again, her body did awake,
And scanning the world her eyes did take
The sight of warm sand that did not forsake,
And she lay there on the isle of the great lake.

Stumbling upon the golden sand,
She searched in the wood, searched on the land,
For signs of a life, for signs of a hand,
To aid and to guide, to help her to stand.

Eyes of yellow stared her carefully back,
And she studied the body, so perfectly black.
A beast of a panther, with no beauty to lack,
But to her surprise it spared her an attack.

As if it had smiled and walked away,
Her curiosity wondered why it did not stay.
So she followed it to the place it did lay,
And kneeled in its presense with nothing to say.

It spoke words that never a soul knew,
It told of secrets, like where the eagle once flew,
It told of the mountain and the garden of dew,
And it refocused the maiden on all that is true.

*

It led her to a boat of exotic plan,
Of glistening wood not gathered by man,
Of signs and symbols the old ones do ban,
And she left the island where the panther once ran.

Far to the west or maybe the east,
Where no one ventured, not in the least,
Where man was outnumbered by any a beast,
There she was stranded, a guest to a feast.

A desert of gold and crimson red earth,
Where the only sounds were far from girth,
There ruled a creature of a most hideous birth,
Named an ogre, a monster, of most littlest worth.

Not far from the beach, not far from the plain,
In the middle of the desert, in the ogre's reign,
The creatured appeared, its club as a cane,
And cried such a cry the maiden's ears hurt with pain.

It stood quite tall, ten feet or maybe nine,
Muscles still rough, skin aged by time.
The maiden dare not wonder its fine,
So she ran for the hills to escape this bind.

*

She hid behind rock and hid behind tree,
Her heart racing, wanting ever to be free.
She turned back slowly, careful to see
That the ogre had not followed; too slow was he.

But in her haste she did not realize,
And to her misfortune and mortal surprise,
She found herself where dead ones forever lie,
Studied by the same dead ones' eyes.

The maiden was now in a graveyard field,
Of ancient stone and dead men's build,
With movement of those passed not to yield,
Their only weapons their bones to wield.

They screeched and cried of ghostly songs,
Of chants passed from years eternally long,
And lived in sin, not right and not wrong,
And came towards the maiden gathered, strong.

Bone shattered under strength of smooth blade,
Thus ghost and apparition began to fade,
Their journeys complete, their tolls now paid,
And their return to life the maiden forbade.

*

The maiden stood and looked so high,
Following rock and path to sky,
Past the graveyard of souls to lie,
Up the mountain where eagles still fly.

Step by step she climbed the peak,
Towards the fruit, her goal, she did seek.
Worn and battered, sore and weak,
The maiden continued, but her spirit was bleak.

At the top she stood there proud,
On sacred ground she was allowed.
A garden of trees to which she bowed,
When suddenly a screech rang out loud.

She swirved to meet her final foe,
Head to head they stood, tail to toe.
The great serpent of countless ages long ago
Struck quickly for a heartless, fatal blow.

The maiden dodged and moved, turned and bent,
Crashing through brush and dirt the rivals went.
To this garden she had been sent,
And would not leave until truth was meant.

*

Scales scraped armor, blade carved skin,
The two entangled but only one could win.
Courage and honor against hate and sin.
And for a moment the lady was pinned.

With great hope put into her brand,
She swung it fast, tight in hand,
And sliced through the serpent's thick band,
Forever freeing the garden, restoring the land.

With the guardian slain from the fight,
The maiden walked to the grove's birth site,
And stood there then in the setting night,
And took the fruit wovened by light.

She returned a year on her marked day,
With many tales and stories to say.
The people gathered, the children played,
Their life set back on the peaceful way.

The maiden soon disappeared over time,
Lost from this life with no trace and no sign.
But may she never fade from our mortal minds,
Her spirit still alive in this statue and rhyme.