Doom’s Gatekeeper – Part 5
Yet another tumultuous weekend, right on the heels of the first. Not entirely sure the day job will still be a thing long term. Still not sure it will be a thing come 9 AM today. What I do know, and what I am certain of, is that I’m heartily sick of the uncertainty and dread which seems to fill my days at this place now. I’m not even certain that I wish to remain, even should things straighten out. I’m beginning to suspect that I won’t be happy until I report to myself and myself alone.
On that point, I am working my heart out writing so that can become a reality. I have obtained Microsoft Word for my regular desktop, and I will be doing an intense amount of writing over the coming weeks. I have goals. I have dreams, and humanity as my witness, I will see them come to fruition or I will die in the attempt. End of story.
Speaking of stories! Doom’s Gatekeeper continues. I like where I’m going with this, and I love, L-O-V-E, how much I’ve been able to slow things down and make them far more satisfying. Writing a novel is primarily that: breaking down the cow of the whole story into individual and delicious meals, one after the other, each a new experience while still relating to the whole.
That metaphor makes me hungry, by the way. I do want Doom’s Gatekeeper to pick up the pace, and it will do so starting with today’s post. Hayoan just happens to be a very long term protagonist, and I wanted her journey to start with us actually getting to know her and care a little bit about what’s happening in her world.
It’s fun to consider such things, and it’s even more enjoyable to consider them with subtle variations on magical abilities. Makes for a much better experience, in my opinion. Worlds in which the answer is “Random Magical Ability” aren’t very much fun. See Sanderson, Brandon on how to make sure you do it right when it comes to such things.
Excelsior!
Doom’s Gatekeeper – Part 5
Hayoan’s foot made an unceremonious squelching sound as it slipped into the muck at the bottom of the basin. Her dress, tattered and splattered with the dirt and leaves of her journey, clung wetly to her legs. All in all, she felt that for such a momentous moment it was starting out rather mundanely.
Pain such as she had never known, such as she could never have imagined, shot upwards along the outside of her right leg. It went through her, into the very marrow of her bones, into the very recesses of her mind, leaving no shadows in it’s blinding wake. Every treacherous beat of her heart brought more of it, until she felt that surely she would die. She thought of her father then, trying desperately to hold onto the memories of a happy childhood. Each moment she held the image of her father in her mind, the pain intensified.
A second nightmare of pain lanced out then, along her other leg. All conscious thought fled, any sense of self, of anything beyond the pain, was shaken from her mind like a dog worrying a rat. She could no longer tell if she stood, or if so where she was. Nothing existed beyond her suffering, not even herself.
Her body wavered as her mind unraveled. She had nothing to cling to. She was adrift in an ocean of suffering, waves crashing against her and pushing her under smothering anguish. The moments stretched for eons, until there was nothing left but pain.
Hayoan forgot her father, forgot her banishment, forgot everything that her life had been. She forgot her name, and what she was doing. Nothing remained of the woman who had stepped within the pool. Only her breathing betrayed that her body yet lived.
The final bolt came, a green wave which rode along Hayoan’s back, cresting over her scalp, hair sloughing off in it’s wake. Her heartbeats had spread the initial bolts along her body as well, until she looked like nothing human, skin winking with vivid green patterns along it’s entire surface, hair completely gone from every portion of her body.
The bolts met on her forehead, directly above where her third eye would have been if she had been a wizard. She went rigid, unable to feel additional pain, but her body locking under the trauma. Her mind was blank, consumed into cinders by the wildfire of her suffering.
In that space, in the moments before her body fell into the pool to an unknowable fate, she-who-had-been-Hayoan breathed. It wasn’t a momentous thing, but it was. Even in her pain, even in her suffering, she breathed. She was alive. No memories remained of the woman she had been, no sense of who or even what she was now. Yet she was alive, and that thought kept her on her feet.
A moment turned into a tense silence, turned into slow minutes. She remained upright, she breathed still, and with each second that passed, her pain was receding. She focused upon her breathing, upon her standing, upon the waters of the pool as they lapped against her legs. Her clothing, like her hair, was completely consumed, not even a scrap remaining.
She blinked, almost experimentally, and slowly moved her head about to look at the creature who had allowed her into his pool. She knew his name then, the knowledge flowing into the barren wastes that had been her mind not so long ago: Shaharazhent.
He gazed upon her, speculation plain in his features. She could seem them clearly now, wondering how she had ever thought him a shapeless mass before. “Welcome, child of the forest. Today is your birthday. I must admit my surprise. I had thought it would be your funeral.”
To be continued…
Forestfully,
Justin
