[NSW-Fic] The Devil's Doorway

[Point Man]

Jae finally convinced me to post this. It's the first chapter of the fantasy novel I'm working on. Comments welcome!

 

 

Chapter One

 

One more mile and he would be with her. He had not seen her in three years, but Danael could still remember every detail of Jenna’s face. That memory sustained him while he was away from home, fighting the savages on the borderlands. After he was wounded in battle, and all his comrades died around him, he knew he would survive because he had something to come home to. Seeing her face in his mind gave him the strength to survive as he made his way home. Even now, his feet throbbed, and exhaustion nearly felled him, but the memory of Jenna kept him moving.

 

In his mind, he returned to the night before he left, when they walked hand-in-hand by the lake. The moonlight shone in her bright blond hair and reflected in the tears on her cheeks. She tried to give him that smile of hers that canted ever so slightly to the left as she promised she would wait for him to come back home from the fighting. His heartbeat quickened when he began to round the last curve before entering his hometown of Oakwood. He was home now, and Jenna was waiting.

 

When Danael finished rounding the curve, he was surprised to see a stone wall around the town. Oakwood never had a wall—it never had need of one—and the Res had declared many times he would not build one. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him in the half dark of first watch. Maybe it was the fatigue from walking all night. He was still several miles outside of town when the sun went down last night, but rather than make camp he trudged on through the night, so he could see his Jenna. As he got closer, though, he knew it was no illusion. Things must have gotten worse around here to build a wall around Oakwood.

 

“Halt!” Danael was startled out of his thoughts by the sentry at the gate. He wore a green surcoat with a gold five-pointed star over his hauberk and carried a spear, which he tilted toward Danael. He looked to Danael to be about seventeen years old. “Who goes there?”

 

“Danael Nar Toman coming back home from the fighting at the western border.”

 

“You are the son of Toman?”

 

“Yes, I am Danael, the Nar Res. Now, let me pass.” Danael did not like invoking his title as son of the King, but this guard sounded as if he did not believe him.

 

“I need to go speak to the sergeant of the guard. Wait here, son of Toman.” The sneer in the guard’s voice was palpable. He then went to the gatehouse and spoke with his sergeant. The sergeant came out of the gatehouse with the guard, wearing the same uniform. As they stood in the light of the doorway, Danael could see that the sergeant looked to be only a couple of years older than his subordinate. They walked toward Danael, and he could hear the guard say, “There’s the impostor.” When they got close enough to see Danael’s face, the sergeant paled and fell to his knees. Taking his cue from the sergeant, the guard did the same.

 

“Nar Res.”

 

Forcing back a smile, Danael said, “You may rise.”

 

The sergeant stood up and gave Danael a look that told how embarrassed he was at this breach of protocol. He placed his hand on the shoulder of his subordinate, keeping him in a kneeling position. In an apologetic tone he said, “Please forgive our lack of respect. We were told you had been killed.” He then turned to the guard and said, “Go tell Alomen inside the gate to run to the home of the Res and inform them of the arrival of the Nar Res. Then come back so you can escort the Nar Res there. The Res will be glad to hear that His brother is alive.” The guard rose and gave a stiff bow to Danael, as the sergeant continued, “I am sorry we cannot give you a proper escort, Nar Res. We had no idea you were coming, and I have no others on the night watch to spare.”

 

“This dutiful guard will be fine.” Danael gave a slight nod toward the young guard, who beamed at the acknowledgement, then headed to the gate to follow his instructions. “Sergeant, you said ‘brother.’ What of Toman Res?”

 

The sergeant studied his boots as he said, “I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Toman Res is dead. Tovin has been Res for over a year now.”

 

“I should have known it when I saw the wall,” Danael said. “Tovin was always trying to convince our father we needed one. Tell me, Sergeant, how did my father die?”

 

“They said he was poisoned. We searched for months to find his killer, but we were not able to find him. I am sorry, Nar Res.”

 

Working hard to keep from crying in front of the soldiers, Danael said, “Thank you for telling me, Sergeant. I am certain you did everything you could to bring justice to bear.” Turning to the returning young guard, Danael said, “Well, lead on, soldier.”

 

They entered the town and had barely walked a hundred paces when Danael heard a familiar voice call out, “Praise the Maker! My brother is alive.” Before he knew it, a giant bear hug squeezed the breath out of him. “Danael, I heard you were dead. The sentries woke me with the news of your sighting, but I could not believe it. I had to run out here to see it for myself. Bless me, it really is you.”

 

Danael recovered from his surprise enough to finally give his brother a hug back. “Yes, Tovin, I am alive. The Maker was merciful to me. Who told you I was dead?”

 

“Well, that does not matter now. What matters is that you are here. I am so glad to see you, little brother. Come, let’s get you home, and we can talk about what has been going on the past three years.”

 

Tovin put his arm around Danael and led him down the street. Tovin was a big man, so Danael knew the only thing for him to do was walk along with him. To tell the truth, he was glad for the support his brother gave to his exhausted body. Tovin wore the green surcoat with the gold star that marked him as the Res of Oakwood. Danael thought it looked different on him than it did on their father.

 

As they marched down the street, Tovin said, “Danael, it is so good to see you. You can’t know how sad we all were when we heard you were killed. I am so glad to see it is not so.”

 

An image of Jenna flashed in Danael’s mind, and he said, “Tovin, what of Jenna? How is she?”

 

A shadow fell across Tovin’ face as he stopped and turned to Danael. “There’s something you should know. Jenna and I are married.” The force of Tovin’s words stunned Danael so that he could only stare at his brother. If Tovin did not have his hands on Danael’s shoulders, he might have fallen back. “You have to understand. We thought you were dead.”

 

When the shock subsided, Danael felt wounded worse than if he had taken an arrow to the heart. After three years of fighting, he responded with the soldier’s natural defense against the pain of war. A blinding rage swelled up inside him, and he shouted, “You thought I was dead? Well, how long after you heard this news did you wait before you wed my betrothed? Did you at least have the decency to observe the mourning period of one month for a count’s son, or did you take her to the priest the next day?”

 

With a strength that surprised Tovin, he shoved the big man back, making him stumble and fall on his backside. In a voice as cold as a winter’s night, he said, “You will burn for what you have done, Tovin. I swear, you will not get away with this betrayal.” While the gathering crowd gaped at him in shock, Danael stormed off.

 

The sun was just beginning to rise in a ball of red and orange over the eastern bluff on the opposite side of the valley when Danael pulled himself up and over the top of one of the many boulders on the hillside. He got to his feet on a small trail and followed it up the hill a short distance. Then he had to climb up another quartzite boulder to get to the trail that led to Devil’s Doorway. As he rounded the last corner of the trail, he saw the big rock formation. On a large, flat base that jutted out from the side of the bluff, two huge rectangular rocks stood upright like two columns. Across the top of them lay another flat rock with a large round boulder on top of it, directly over the far column. As he walked along the trail, Danael reached a point where he could see the red ball of the sunrise coming between the columns. For a moment, Danael thought it looked like the devil was opening up his doorway to let some fire out. He dismissed the notion as superstitious nonsense, then he hurried on to his destination.

 

After another short climb up a trail so steep Danael could put his hands out straight ahead of him and touch the ground, he finally came to the last boulder he had to climb. Then he walked across the hillside and sat down in the pothole eroded into the side of the hill. He leaned back against the rocky hill and wondered at how it seemed to fit his body just as perfectly now as it had the last time he had been here, four years earlier. Absently, he remembered the times in his youth when he would daydream about it being his own personal throne.

 

He gazed out directly across from where he sat and looked at The Sentinel. It was a wonder to behold, a giant rock of purple quartzite twelve feet high, four feet square at the base and eight feet square at the top, sitting on the edge of a two hundred foot cliff. The bards told ancient legends that said the Sentinel was actually a soldier from long ago who had been turned to stone. Others said that a great river of ice had covered the land ages ago, and it left the Sentinel there. The Brotherhood of the Keep said the Maker put it there. Only Danael knew the truth; he knew it was there to be his guardian and companion.

 

The rock was appropriately named. For all the world, it looked like a lone sentinel looking out over the valley. Danael looked around at the scattered boulders on the side of the hill and thought how they looked like the bodies of all the fallen comrades of the Sentinel, left after some giant battle. He started to daydream about what it would be like to fight against the forces of the Evil One. An image came to mind of leading a great army of warriors into battle. Their gleaming armor and swords reflected the morning sun, standing out in stark contrast to the royal purple surcoats they wore. With Danael in front, they charged down a hillside crushing the enemy as if in an avalanche.

 

His thoughts drifted along, carried by the gentle breeze that brushed his cheek and rustled his sandy blond hair. He loved to come here. He always felt such a sense of peace here, as if the balance of the giant boulder on the edge of the cliff somehow transferred to him, as well. Life was so much simpler here up on the bluff. Not like down among the people, with their wars and their betrayals.

 

Looking at the Sentinel, he thought how that boulder was the only friend he could really talk to. Not even realizing he was doing it, he started talking to the rock. “Well, old friend, what will you do today? Stupid question, huh? You will stand there, watching out over the valley, just like you always do. Sometimes I wish everyone could be like you. You always know your duty, and you do it no matter what. You would not betray anyone, especially the one you said you loved.”

 

The sting of betrayal made Danael start to daydream about having a love who would be constant, someone who would be true to her promise. An image formed in his mind of what she would look like. She was even more beautiful than Jenna. It seemed to Danael that he fell into a waking dream. Not knowing how it was happening, in his dreamlike state, he spoke in words that poured out of his mouth as easily as water tumbling over a waterfall,

 

With setting sun behind, she makes her way,

This maid in blue upon her dark black steed.

To any other thing no eye can stray,

Nor hope from her sweet visage to be freed.

 

Of stately bearing, like unto a queen,

She proudly holds her shoulders back, head high.

No leave she gives for one to call her mean,

Nor fears to look a person in the eye.

 

As bright as spun red gold, her glist’ning hair

Cascades in tiny ringlets tumbling down

Past shoulders soft as sea foam, resting there,

Upon the gold trim of her satin gown.

 

Her eyes, just as the sparking azure sea

Calls men to lose themselves among the waves,

Full captivates the hearts of all who see

Their endless depths, and makes them all her slaves.

 

To view her countenance so pure and white,

With cheeks that blush in such a scarlet glow,

Brings naught to mind but witnessing the sight

Of rowan berries brushed with one night’s snow.

 

She starts to speak in such melodic song

The calling birds all hang their heads in shame

And think The Blessed Maker did them wrong

To make one such as her to steal their fame.

 

The words she says, though simple they may be,

Those words bring boundless wonderment to all,

“The one whom I shall wed has summoned me,

And I must find him; I must heed The Call.”

 

Then, she seemed to look straight at Danael, not him in the scene he was imagining, but right where he was, on the hillside. She gazed directly into his eyes and asked him, “Do you want this?”

 

Hardly believing it, he choked out the word, “Yes.”

 

Her answer left him breathless: “I will come.”

[JediAthos]

This is really very good. I wasn't really paying attention to little things like punctuation and stuff, but it reads very nicely.

 

You got me interested in your main character, and I felt like I could connect with him. Jae did well in convincing you to post this and I hope to see more!

[Emperor Devon]

Pretty good read overall. I'd like to have had Danael's history in the war explored a tad more, but writing-wise the emotions are well-captured and the characters react realistically. (I particularly liked the sentinel, btw.)

 

A couple things, though - I was a bit confused by Jenna suddenly appearing out of thin air when Danael finished the poem. I think that could really use reworking, as it seemed unlikely enough she'd meet him all out of the blue right when he was feeling his loneliest. Or is that something explained in chapter two?

 

I was also surprised at how Danael walked to his town all by himself. As a prince I'd have expected him to at least have a horse, if not some sort of escort.

 

FYI, I do think the story is done well - it's just that paragraphs of criticism can come so easily for me and I find writing more than five sentences of compliments a struggle.

[Point Man]

Thanks for the comments!

 

ED, don't worry about offending me with your critiques. I'm married with children, the youngest of 9 kids, and I've been through basic training. You can't say much bad about me that my siblings and drill sergeants (and wife and kids) haven't already said.

 

I intentionally left Danael's experiences in the war untold for now because I hate first chapters that spend all their time telling backstory. I feel it is more important to try to hook the reader with present action. More will be revealed later.

 

I hadn't thought about how walking back would be below Danael's station. That's something I will need to address.

 

The woman addressing Danael at the end of his poem is not Jenna. It is the woman in his vision. I meant that to be a part of his vision. In chapter 2, we will learn more about this strange experience.

 

Oh, the Sentinel and Devil's Doorway are based on actual rock formations at Devil's Lake State Park (photos 7 & 8), here in Wisconsin. I renamed Balanced Rock to the Sentinel because it fit the story better.

 

 

 

Edit: Taking suggestions in mind, I smoothed off some rough edges. The revision should be better. Thanks for the help!

[Point Man]

Here's the second chapter.

 

Chapter Two

 

The old man was bent over his scribing table, with his back to the door as Danael rushed in, out of breath. Without looking up he said, “Brother Danael, welcome. I have been expecting you. It is so good to have you back from the wars.” Danael never understood how it was that Brother Jolna could know without looking up that he was there. Jolna was the oldest brother in the monastery, but he moved with a grace that belied his age. When he was not performing his martial training, Danael loved to come in and help Brother Jolna with his work. As they would sit together in the scribing room, each working on their copies of the scriptures, Brother Jolna would captivate Danael with his lilting accent as he told stories of the old world. Jolna looked up and said with a smile, “Pray tell me Brother Danael, how are you feeling today? Has anything unusual happened?”

 

Brother Jolna always seemed to know things about Danael he had not told him, and much more than he revealed. Danael had long ago learned not to try hiding anything from him. Jolna would find out anyway. “Brother Jolna, two very unusual things happened today. The first was that I met my brother and found out that he had married my betrothed.” Danael dropped his eyes and said, “I am afraid in my anger I did not act very much like a Brother of the Keep. I shoved him down and I cursed him. I told him he would burn for betraying me as he did.

 

“Then, I went up to the Sentinel, and I had the most unusual daydream. It was about a beautiful woman.”

 

A knowing smile came to Brother Jolna’s lips, and he asked, “Did anything happen in this daydream?”

 

“Well, I have to tell you, it was really unusual. I know it sounds crazy, but it was more like a vision than a daydream. As I saw everything happen, I started reciting a poem about it. I don’t know how it happened, but the words just came to me. In my mind I pictured a woman as she came up riding on her horse. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She said she was looking for the one who had called her--”

 

Brother Jolna interrupted, asking, “What were her exact words?”

 

Danael answered, “She said, ‘The one whom I shall wed has summoned me, And I must find him; I must heed The Call.’"

 

Brother Jolna, gasped, and said, “Danael, you have received a vision. This is portentous.”

 

Danael nodded, and said, “That’s not all. After that, the strangest thing happened. This woman in the dream looked straight at me, not me in the dream, but me where I was, and she said to me, ‘Do you want this?’"

 

“What did you answer?”

 

With suddenly red cheeks, Danael answered, “I said, ‘Yes.’ Then she said to me, ‘I will come.’”

 

Upon hearing this, Brother Jolna jumped up and said to Danael, “Come here.” He grabbed Danael’s arm and pulled him over to the bookshelves on the far wall, across from the corner where the scribing tables sat. He reached up and, without searching, took a book off the shelf. Danael noted absently that there was no dust on the shelf. Grabbing Danael’s sleeve again, he led him over to the scribing tables and set the book down on top of Danael’s work. Its cover was made of dark brown leather, and it had gold leaf letters on the front cover spelling out the title: The Book of Hidden Magic. Danael had a strange feeling that there was something very unusual about this book. He started to feel sick to his stomach. Sweat started to come on his brow, and he suddenly felt cold and clammy. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge.

 

Brother Jolna looked at Danael and said, “You are scared of this book, are you not?” Though he could not explain it, Danael could only nod. His throat was so dry he could not speak. “With good reason, my boy. This is a very dangerous book…very dangerous. Open it.” Danael shrank back from the book. In a commanding voice, much firmer than Danael had ever heard Brother Jolna use before, the old monk said, “Open it!” With a shaking hand, Danael reached out and opened the book. He had only to glance down at the first page before what he saw there made him gasp in amazement. As quickly as he could, he slammed the book shut. “What did you see?” Brother Jolna asked.

 

“It’s my poem.”

 

The color drained from Brother Jolna’s face, and he muttered, “He has come.” He fell to his knees, looked up, and raised his hands as he offered up a prayer, “Praise the Maker that I should live to see this day. The One has come!”

 

Brother Jolna got up off his knees and put both his hands on Danael’s shoulders. He looked him straight in the eye and said, “Bless the Maker that was no mere vision you had, Danael. Do you know what you have done?” Danael could only shake his head. “You have fulfilled an ancient prophecy.”

 

Danael’s head was spinning with all the unanswered questions. He was sure that if he were not already sitting down, he would have fallen. How could the poem be recorded in this book? For that matter, how did he even come up with the poem on the spot like that? What was this trance he felt? What did Brother Jolna mean by The One? All he could sputter out was, “What?”

 

Brother Jolna saw the confusion in Danael’s eyes and said in his most reassuring manner, “I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once. I will do what I can to explain. Please understand that I am shocked at this turn of events, too.” Danael nodded, unable to say anything.

 

Jolna continued, “There is an ancient prophecy that tells of the coming of a certain individual. He is known by many names, but most generally, he is simply known as The One. For centuries, people have been looking forward to his coming. Some of us in the Brotherhood have dedicated our lives to studying the prophecies, so that we may prepare for it.” After a pause, he added almost as an afterthought, “I must say you came sooner than expected.”

 

Brother Jolna’s last statement startled Danael back to reality. Afraid to speak in anything louder than a whisper, he managed to ask, “You mean I…?”

“Yes, Danael, you are The One.”

 

Danael put his hands on either side of his face and rubbed his temples briefly. Then he looked Brother Jolna in the eyes and asked, “So who is this One?”

 

“You are,” the old man deadpanned.

 

Unamused, Danael answered, “Very funny. Now, tell me, really, who is this One in the prophecies?”

 

Brother Jolna said, “That is not an easy question to answer. The prophecies say very little about the man himself. I know nothing of his origins or identity,” then, catching himself, added, “At least, not until now.”

 

“So how do you know it’s me?”

 

“As I said, you fulfilled one of the prophecies. You issued The Call. Here, let me show you something,” Jolna said. Then he walked over to the bookshelves and took down the book that had been right next to the one he gave Danael earlier. The book was just bigger than Danael’s hand, and was about as thick as his thumb. On its brown leather cover, ornate letters in gold leaf said. “The Names of The One.” Danael opened it up and was startled at what he saw. On the first page, written in an elaborately flowing hand that Danael instantly recognized as belonging to Brother Jolna was The One Who Issues the Call. Underneath it, it read “The One will reveal himself when he issues The Call.”

 

Seeing Danael’s eyes open wide with surprise, Jolna said to him, “That was a particularly troublesome one. We could never figure out just what kind of call would be issued, or to whom, but there can be no doubt now. You have called your bride.”

 

Danael nearly fainted with that revelation. Just how many surprises could one day hold? “My bride? I can't just summon my bride.”

 

Waving a hand to dismiss the thought, Brother Jolna said, “Pish, posh! You are the One. You can do anything you want. In fact, that is what makes you so dangerous. You have the ability to do what nobody else can, Danael. You have the power of the Hidden Magic.”

 

“What do you mean by the Hidden Magic?”

 

“It is complicated, Danael, so it will take me a while to explain it.” Brother Jolna sat down opposite Danael to continue. “To most people, the world is a plain, ordinary place. It follows certain principles that cannot be violated. To be sure, people do not understand all those principles, but they know the world follows rules. Some superstitious people may say that things they cannot understand are brought about by magic, but they cannot really see the magic. It is just a convenient way of explaining what they are too lazy or too stupid to figure out.

 

“There actually is magic, though. Those born with the gift of magic can recognize it around them, and do things that go beyond those rules by which the world normally operates. You were born with this gift-“

Danael interrupted, “Wait! I don’t have any magic. I’m just plain old Danael. I’ve never cast a spell or anything.”

 

Jolna corrected him, “Of course you have the gift of magic. I recognized it in you when I saw you the first day of your martial training. Do you remember what happened that day?”

 

Danael nodded and said, “The brothers who would be training us in swordsmanship let us pick out what sword we would use. Everyone ignored the sword I knew would be the best. I could not believe that even though I was one of the last to pick out a weapon, the best one was left for me.”

 

“How did you know that sword would be the best?” Jolna asked.

 

“I had never used a sword before, but I could see it was better made. All the others had leather grips, but this one had a wire-wrapped hilt. It did not have any rust, either.” Reaching down with his left hand, Danael patted his weapon’s pommel. “I picked up another one, and it did not have near the same balance this one has.”

 

“What happened after you picked your sword?”

 

“I don’t know how, but I did better than everyone else at learning how to use a sword.”

 

“Come now, Danael, please do not pretend. I was there, and I saw how you bested even your instructors. How could someone who had never held a sword before be a master at it his first day?”

 

“The sword is magic? But if it is, then why would everyone else pass it up?”

 

“Everyone else saw a rusty sword with a loose pommel weight. Only those who have the gift of magic could recognize it for what it is. We had a wizard disguise the sword to help us identify those who have magic. However, it is not just the sword that is magic. In the hands of another, it would not have responded the same way. They would have been good, but not nearly as good as you. It was the combination of a magic sword in the hands of a user of magic that yielded the results of mastery.

 

“I have been watching you closely ever since that day. There have been numerous times you have used your magic without even knowing it. Do you remember the time the abbot held an inspection, and you had that grease stain on your robes?”

 

Danael was incredulous. “You knew about that?”

 

Brother Jolna nodded and asked, “What did you do?”

 

“I wiped it away while his back was turned, so he would never see it.”

 

“Did you never wonder how you were able to remove it so completely just by wiping it with your fingers?” Jolna asked with a grin.

 

“Well, I guess I was so relieved that it was gone and I passed the inspection that I never gave it any thought.” Danael thought a few seconds and asked, “Brother Jolna, you talked with me just before that inspection. I remember you bumped up against me. You placed the stain there, didn’t you?”

 

Jolna gave Danael a smile and said, “Another test. You passed.”

 

Danael just sat staring at Brother Jolna, trying to soak everything in. He decided he had to face the truth: he had the gift of magic. In a way, he had always known it. He knew he saw things differently than everyone else, but he just thought it was because he different, maybe even strange. This put everything into a whole new light. He was not weird. He had an ability others did not have. He tried to focus his thoughts on determining if he could feel this ability, this gift, inside him. As he did so, he became aware of a strange but subtle sensation. It was a soundless buzzing, like the ringing in his ears he got whenever he bumped his head. He suddenly realized he felt that same sensation every time he was around Brother Jolna. He had just never paid attention to it before. Realization came to Danael, and he cried out, “You have magic, too!”

 

Brother Jolna stood and took a deep bow, sweeping his right hand before him in a florid manner, “Brother Jolna Skinner, Master of the Arcane Arts, at your service.” Then he sat back down and continued, “There is more to it, though. Some magic is hidden, even to those gifted with it. Open up The Book of Hidden Magic again.”

 

Danael opened up the first book Brother Jolna had given him to the page with his poem on it. Brother Jolna asked him, “Can you read this page for me?”

Danael nodded and said, “It’s the poem I recited up on the hillside by the Sentinel.” Then he read it aloud to Brother Jolna.

 

“That is really quite good. I never knew you were such a good poet, Danael.”

 

“Thank you, but I can’t claim all the credit. I don’t even know how it happened. I have never done anything like it before. The words just came to me as if I was only the vessel pouring them out. And I have no idea how they got written in this book.”

 

Brother Jolna’s face got deadly serious as he looked directly into Danael’s eyes and said, “I see nothing on that page. Danael, you have invoked Hidden Magic. That is the true proof of who you are. Only The One can do that.”