Please accept my appolgies for this being such a long poem, the story just seem to take on a life of it's own, and I just had to let it flow to the end, I do hope you enjoy it though.

‘Tis in the middle ages that the tale I tell begins,
About the queen’s lady in waiting, much admired by the king,
Though she was a comely wench, her virtue was unspoilt,
And though young, her head could not be turned,
By the promises of royals.

But suddenly, one night, it seems,
Amidst shouts and threats and a young girls screams,
She disappeared, where? Who can tell?
Though some speculate about the dell.

For between the castle and the dell was no more than seven leagues,
But it was the darkest, evil dell that man had ever been
Twas said that Elves and Dragons dwelt, within the dark dells thorns,
Twas also rumoured as the place, the king’s bastard son was born.

His mother having been cast out years previous by the king,
Who had ravaged and disgraced her for refusing to wear his ring.
The mother, old hags whispered, would one day take revenge,
For in her ancestral linage were the wizards of the glen.

Though not magically endowed herself, for that fell only to the males,
Her son would soon possess the gift, and justice would prevail.
Thus came the summer solstice on the boys eighteenth year of life,
The moon eclipsed the summer sun, and lightening rent the sky,

Upon the sacrificial stone a lamb had been prepared,
And chants of, “rise young master”, filled the summer air.
The young man’s eyes glowed fiercely like the burning coals of Hell,
And a spear of lightening pierced his breast thrice times before he fell.

In agonized contortions, his body arched and moaned,
As the blood of the sacrificial lamb, flowed free across the stone.
As the ceremony finished, and the sun began to shine,
The new wizard tore a walking staff from off a knarled old vine.

Instantly it turned to gold, bedecked with precious gems,
He turned towards his followers, raised it, and said to them,
“It is time to meet my father and claim what’s rightly mine,
For he has sat the throne of Arlescon for far too long a time”,

He tapped the golden staff three times and the bushes shed their leaves,
Twice more and every bird around fell lifeless from the trees.
Rabbits turned to ashes, Badgers turned to stone,
“Who here”, he said, “amongst you, deny my right to sit the throne?”



Not one voice rose against him, but as his mother watched her son,
She whispered softly to herself, “My God, what have I done?
“In my desire for retribution, I have unleashed the Devils wrath,
And woe betides whatever innocents should dare to cross his path.

For my son embraces evil, and will not stop at the king,
He says he only wants the throne, but he wants everything.
I can see that his ambitions are increasing by the hour,
And believe he’ll not be satisfied until he has total power.

Eventually the king was told of all that had transpired,
And in fear the king sort council from his nobles, knights and squires.
They advised the king, defend his realm, with as many men as he could muster,
For this wizard of the darkened dell is nought but boast and bluster.

Thus began the final conflict between a father and his son,
Where twenty thousand arrows would block out the morning sun.
Though none would reach their target, not one would even land,
For the wizard of the dell had only but to wave his hand.

And the arrows turned to locusts and returned from whence they came,
To devastate the farmland, the wheat stores and the grain.
Next came the knights on horseback, their lances poised to strike,
Five hundred of them charging through the plain and across the dyke.

This time the wizard raised his staff and released a fireball,
The charging knights had not a chance, the flames engulfed them all.
From the castle walls, the king could see his defence had been for nought,
And the wizard was now killing off his archers just for sport.

He’d flick a stone from where he stood, three hundred meters hence,
And send it through an archer’s chest, who of course had no defence.
The wizard’s mother also saw the things her child had done,
And prayed to her ancestors that they could somehow stop her son.

When high upon the castle walls there suddenly came a light,
And one by one the wizards of the glen came into sight.
‘Tis an awesome thing for a man to see, a battle fought with magic,
But the outcome of this battle friend could be nothing less than tragic.

On one side stood the wizard prince, who wished to rule all men,
Opposing him, his mother, and the wizards of the glen,
At first the wizard prince was bold, youth was on his side,
Should he kill his mother, or father first? It was so hard to decide.

At length he conjured up a spell to kill them both at once,
And had the wizards of the glen not intervened he might have done,
They threw a shield around the mother to deflect the princes shot,
But it struck the king beside the head, and he died there on the spot.


A constant wave of energy was cast against the shield,
And one by one, the wizards of the glen began to yield,
Their sorcery depleted, they stood defenceless on the wall,
So the prince sent forth a dragon hoard to destroy them, one and all.

Now all that stood between the prince and his manifest destiny,
Was the mother that had given life, and then shown her treachery,
He smiled as he walked toward her, saying, “mother why dost thou cry?
Am I not all powerful?” as he knelt down at her side.

As he stroked her cheek, he mocked her, saying, “Do you want to live?
Oh mother, sweetest mother, if only I could forgive,
Alas you have betrayed me and thus we have to part,
But she pulled a dagger from her sleeve, and pierced him through the heart.

He looked down at the dagger without fear or alarm,
And still mocking said, “Oh mother, no blade can do me harm,
For I am the wizard of the dell, you may as well have used a nail,
But then as he was speaking, his strength began to fail.

No more did he sound mocking, now more frightened than amused,
For he knew it was the sacred blade of Saska Brae she’d used,
She kissed him as he faded and held him to her breast,
And stayed in that position until she’d starved herself to death.

The castle is a ruin now, overgrown by weeds,
The dell has long been built upon with houses, parks and streets,
Some say it’s just a story, others swear it’s true ,
But sometimes, around the summer solstice, when the sun is covered by the moon.

You can hear a woman crying, and lightening seems to flash,
And though there’s not a cloud in sight, you can still hear thunder crash,
As though armies are in battle, or wizards are at war,
And have been for a thousand years, and will be, ever more.


By

S.E.Ralph

17-1-2017