The Devil's Doorway

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 live 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.”