Crystal Maiden

i feel like i posted this already....but i don't remember
it's been hanging out on my compy's memory for a while, and i haven't read through it, so if there's grammar or spelling or inane-ness, comment and i'll fix it if i can
said the author to her three readers...

Long ago, two foes met on an epic battlefield: An evil wizard, long the foul dictator of the country, and a peasant maiden, bearing an enchanted sword.

The wizard cared not for the people, only for his own twisted means. By the wizard’s hand the king was slain, and his power was so great and the people’s fear so deep that no revolution could oppose him. Many had died in their attempts for freedom, and the people lost hope.

The maiden was no one special. She found the blade in a deep, clear pool in the high mountains where no foot has trod. But that is another story for another time. The maiden was brave, and despised the evil treatment of her people. None of her people would stand with her, for they were afraid. Alone, the maiden challenged the evil dictator to a fight to the death.

The two faced off, in a hidden valley. In the wizard’s hand, the evil black blade Gurthang, and against it stood the enchanted blade Gil’estel.

The climactic battle lasted from sunset to sunset to sunset again, and at every stroke it seemed to the maiden that her power fled and the wizard’s power increased. The wizard was strong, skilled in swordsmanship and magic, while the maiden was only a peasant. She could barely defend herself, let alone defend a whole nation. What could a mere maiden do against a mighty wizard?

With that thought, the maiden fell to the ground. The wizard struck, the black blade Gurthang slicing deep into her shoulder. She cried out as blood poured from her many wounds and tears of hopelessness poured from her eyes. And as the wizard stood over her, laughing with vile pleasure at his victory, the maiden’s eyes closed.

But this was not her last moment. Even as her breath slowed, and her heart barely quivered, a faint memory came to her mind. A memory, of long ago, before the ensorcelled blade had fallen into her hands, of the one she loved, the one whose death inspired her to take up arms against the vile wizard, and the words he spoke to her with his last breath. “Never give up hope,” he said to her that time not so long ago, “never lose sight of that beautiful hope that shines from deep within you. For with that light, you can conquer the world.”

The maiden remembered these words, and who she was fighting for. With a loud cry, she stood; despite her injuries, despite the blood flowing from her shoulder, despite the overpowering evil of the wizard’s heart, she stood. Her hand tightened around the blade and she lifted her arm, pointing the sword straight for the wizard’s evil heart. The wizard, startled that she still lived, raised the blade Gurthang with a twisted grin on his face. But before the wizard had a chance to cry out, the maiden rushed forward, blade gleaming in the light of the sunrise.

Gil’estel struck the blade Gurthang, shattering it and plowing through to the wizard’s heart. Deep plunged the sword, deep into the depths of the wizard’s chest, to where his evil heart resided. The maiden drove the blade in as far as it would go, piercing the wicked heart.

Such evil was pent up in that vile heart that when the pure Gil’estel pierced it, it was rent asunder. The blast of the explosion consumed the wizard, and the forest all around him, leaving a scorched crater. Everything that had been in the crater was destroyed.

Everything, except for the maiden, that is. For the blade Gil’estel had a deep, strange, enchantment upon it. As soon as it pierced that vile heart, great streams of light shot out from the blade, encasing it and the maiden.

When the light faded, the maiden still stood, her arm stretched out, the blade poised. Yet she could not move, for all around her was the clearest crystal. The blade’s enchantment had shielded her from the blast.

The maiden triumphed, destroying the corrupted heart of the twisted wizard. The few people who saw the explosion from afar, and the even fewer who saw the black crater, and the maiden in crystal, knew that the vile wizard was dead. They spread the news among the people, telling great tales of the maiden’s epic victory and the wizard’s demise. As the tales spread, they grew in size, till it became an impossible battle.

So this tale has fallen into myth. And so the maiden, encased in stone, waits. She will wait, until someone awakens her, if it is the will of the Most High. And if not, she will wait in her crystal chamber until the end of time.

And they lived happily ever after.

The Third

hey look, it's 2008
so if anyone still reads this, here's the beginning of a story, first draft of the prologue-type-deal. and i'm not gonna explain anything, so be confused.
and i've changed the plot-type deal some, so this isn't completely accurate....
but whatever

“So what’s wrong with her?”

“Just a minor case of pneumonia. She’s on antibiotics now. She should be good to go home in a day or so.”

Paul sighed with relief. The coughing and rattling in Marci’s chest had terrified him, so terrified that he didn’t even stop to drop off his nephew at the neighbor’s house.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said, as he carefully bounced the fussing baby. The doctor turned away, and Paul looked to his sleeping sister. She looked so peaceful…until her body shook with coughs.

Paul sighed again. At least her fever was going down. He sat next to the bed and picked up the baby’s bottle. A yawn escaped him as the sound of suckling filled the room.

A loud crash woke him with a start. His hand clenched convulsively, but it was empty. He glanced down, but could just barely see the shattered bottle on the floor. How many hours had passed? “Marci?” he whispered, looking to his sister’s bed.

No sister.

“Marci?” he said louder, standing quickly only to realize that his nephew was no longer in his arms. “Marci!”

A white-clothed nurse stepped into the room. “Is something wrong?”

“Marci’s gone, and the baby’s missing!” Paul ran from the room, followed by the nurse raising the alarm. Where would she have gone?

He called himself every kind of fool. He should have told the doctors, but he selfishly tried to protect her from scorn. The kidnapping, rape, and psychological problems that followed… When she had appeared on his doorstep after a year of hiding in the witness protection program, he took her and the baby in. She ignored the baby for two weeks straight, refusing to acknowledge it. But after that, she was fine, only relapsing occasionally.

It would have taken only five, maybe ten minutes, to stop at the neighbors.

“She’s not in the building,” said a doctor quickly striding toward Paul.

He swore and pivoted around, running for the door.

“Marci!” He looked left, right, then left again. The pond. “No…” He sprinted in that direction.

A scream tore from his throat as he saw a hospital-gowned form floating in the water. The water splashed around his legs as he reached to pull Marci out.

No baby in her limp arms. Another pair of hands reached for her, and Paul plunged back into the water, searching for the baby. After a few seconds of searching, he pulled him out quickly.

“No, no no…wake up…” A nurse took the blue child out of his arms. He stepped back, trying not to panic. Marci’s skin was terribly pale.

Soon, the baby cried loudly. Paul barely held back a sob of joy. But his joy was quickly suppressed when the doctor stood, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. She’s dead.”

Paul stared in shock at the doctor, lifting the still form of his sister. No…no… It would have just taken ten minutes.

“How could you, Marci?”