The Chosen

A wizard who protects a sacred sword is finally able to present the weapon to a great hero, but it might not be as the prophecy foretold.

Mathias could hear the rumbles and thuds of the battle outside the stone door. The Guardian of Thyridan was challenged once again by some courageous, armor-clad hero who was probably a bit too headstrong and stubborn for his own good. At one time, he would occasionally sneak a glance at the two foes clash in the caverns of Selene. The Guardian would always ensnare the poor champion in his serpentine clutches. The great snake’s scales were thicker than brazen shields and twice as strong. Even if the hero in question did manage to escape his coils, the Guardian’s venom was thick and toxic enough to melt through human flesh. Just one bite in the right place would have the warrior dead in a near instant. At this point, it was just a game to the Guardian to see how long he could keep playing with tin soldiers before they inevitably crunched between his jaws.

But Mathias knew it wouldn’t always be like this, for he had received a prophecy from the Creator himself. It was foretold one would come forth and slay the Guardian of Selene and with the sword Thornguard, he would be forever known as the greatest hero in all the realm, and honor and glory shall be given unto him. That was nearly half a century ago, and Mathias still had the blade wrapped in elven silk. It was long, thin as a unicorn’s horn, but sharper than a dragon’s fang. Upon its hilt was a large, round emerald, bright green like the eyes of the monster that guarded its resting place. For decades Mathias had kept the sword under his protection. Though he was no warrior or swordsman, he was one of the wisest magicians in all the realm. When the Creator bestowed upon him the task of keeping the blade, he knew that neither monster nor man of impure being would ever cross Mathias’s spells or incantations. He’d done his duty for so long, the number of years spent hidden away had all but left his recognition.

One day, with neither warning nor anticipation. The stone door to the inner sanctum of Selene was opened at last as the head of the Guardian crashed through the stone. It’s black forked tongue lolled out its maw as it fell dead upon the floor. As the dust settled and the rubble cleared, Mathias was at long last able to lay eyes on the champion the prophecy foretold. Upon the serpent ’s back stood a mighty figure clad in ring mail and plated armor, a double-bladed ax rested upon his broad shoulders. As the figure removed his helmet, a mass of yellow-blonde hair fell from its confines, revealing the face of a battle-hardened warrior from the northern lands.

It was none other than Samson the Slayer, a wandering warrior from the lands of Eyarl.  With the force of a god’s hammer, he’d left the guardian crumpled and coiled upon the floor. The time had at last come for Mathias to fulfill his duty.

“Great warrior, thou hast slain the Guardian of Selene and proven thyself a mighty hero. Take the sword Thornguard, and wield it well. For thou shalt surely be the mightiest in all the land.”

Mathias unwrapped the silks and held out the beautiful blade. Its silver body glistening in the new light from the open cavern. Samson strode off of the serpent’s back and looked upon the wizard.

“I’ve not come for the blade,” he uttered. “I’ve come for the serpent.”

The warrior then proceeded to pick up his ax, and with one swing he severed the head of the great snake. Mathias was at first confused, surely he was not rejecting a blade so powerful and a destiny so grand as Thornbreaker’s? 

“Surely,” Said the wizard. “A warrior of your reputation desires a blade to match. Take thee up Thornbreaker and conquer thy foes with its sting.

“I have one already,” Samson replied, holding his ax aloft. “This is Demon’s Bane, he who holds it shall never be vanquished by man or beast.”

Mathias was shocked. Certainly, this was a great jest. No warrior, no matter how ambitious could deny such a reward as this blade.

“But you have proven yourself against the Guardian, you must take up the blade. It is indeed a most coveted reward. You have fulfilled the prophecy foretold.”

“What prophecy?” Samson asked. “I come only for the beast with the poisonous teeth. Its head shall hang magnificently in King Sven’s mead hall.:

“That one shall come slay the guardian and take up the sword in honor and glory. Surely thou art the one.”
“I already have all of those things, in surplus mind you.” Said the warrior. “Keep your blade and your prophecies. I have more monsters to slay. The serpent was just one of many.”

Mathias could not believe his ears. Samson the Slayer had rejected the blade and all its rewards. All for some trophy to display in front of his fur-clad peers.

 He was about to insist a final time when suddenly the warrior spoke again, taking the head of the fallen Guardian under his arm.

“The beast has been vanquished, I have set you free, old man.  But pray tell, you’ve kept the blade all this time. Why not use it yourself?”

And with that, Samson turned and left, leaving Mathias in a state of disbelief, and perhaps not as wise as his reputation declared.

Author's Note

This was a flash fiction challenge to play with expectations using a familiar scene or trope. It has not been properly edited save for grammar. I'm looking for feedback as to what can be improved to possibly make it publishable.

Reviews

[JayG]

You want to make it publishable? Okay, I'll put my manuscript critique hat on while you take a deep breath.

What I have to say isn't about you your talent and potential, or even the story. But still, it will sting a bit because it's unexpected.

Let's look at the opening, not as the one who created it, who knows the setting and the people before reading the first word, but as a reader, who knows only what the words to any given point suggest, based on THEIR background, not your intent:

• Mathias could hear the rumbles and thuds of the battle outside the stone door.

So Mathias, someone we know nothing about, who lives in an unknown place and era—perhaps even another planet—COULD hear battle. Does that mean he's paying attention? We don't know. Are the "thuds of battle" the sound of howitzers? The noises of a serious game of tennis? Animals fighting? We lack context to make such a judgment—or create a mental picture.

Since we know nothing about the situation, the location, or the person, there's no way for a reader to know what's meant. So with the first words, what you intent and what the reader gets, diverge. But because that doesn't happen as you read, you'll not see it and it's not a problem...for you.

And look at a simple identifier as a reader will: "the stone door." To make a door of stone implies it's at least an inch think. So, with a normal outer door size of 78" x 36, it weighs over 250 lbs. Who would have a stone door that heavy made—especially, when to get in all you need is a solid blow from a hammer?

Do you clarify quickly? Who cares? You can't retroactively remove confusion. And since the reader has no assurance you will clarify, will they read on?

See how different what the reader gets is from what you do? Because you have intent guiding you, you not only fill in the blanks and don't notice the problem, the approach, that of an external observer reporting what CAN be seen and heard, as against what's driving the protagonist, causes you to leave out things the reader needs, but which are, to you, obvious.

• The Guardian of Thyridan was challenged once again by some courageous, armor-clad hero who was probably a bit too headstrong and stubborn for his own good.

So Mathias has X-ray vision, and can see through the stone door, and know what's going on? My point? If he's our protagonist, he can't tell. And you're not in the story or on the scene so, are we with you or with Mathias? Were you the reader, which would be your choice? And why don't we know who the "Guardian" is, and what his job is?

See how different what the reader gets, when they're being spoon fed information about the story instead of being made to live it as the protagonist?

My point? You're doing the best you can with what you have. But what do you have to work with? The same thing as we all have when we leave school, the nonfiction report-writing skills out teachers give us. We leave our school years believing that writing-is-writing, so that we have all we need, but...

But did any of your teachers ever mention that a scene on the page is a very different thing from one on stage and screen? Did they explain the difference? I ask, because if you're writing with the belief that a scene is about the action in one place, or unified time-line, it's impossible to write a scene for the page.

The writing we learned in our schooldays is fact-based and author-centric. just like what you have here. The author, explains the situation, clearly and carefully. Great for passing on information, but lousy for emotional issues. But that's okay, because nonfiction isn't about evoking emotion in the reader, only understanding the facts. So from an English teacher's viewpoint, you're writing exactly as you were taught. From an acquiring editor's? Not so much.

And therein lies the problem—which is why I said this isn't about you, or your writing. With the best of intentions, and using the skills you worked hard to perfect, you're writing fiction with report-writing technique. Problem is, while the writing we all perfect in school is designed to inform, fiction's goal is to provide the reader with an emotional experience. That requires an approach that's author-centric and emotion-based/

Think about a horror story. Do you want to be told the protagonist feels terror? Or do you want the author to terrorize YOU, and make you afraid to turn off the lights? No way in hell can we do that with the book-report skills we learned in our school days.

What our teachers fail to mention is that ALL professions are learned AFTER we master the 3 R's that employers need us to know in order to learn the average trade or profession. But fiction is a profession. And like every other has a body of craft and knowledge that's not obvious to those outside our profession, but is necessary.

Lots of it is obvious after it's pointed out, and will make you slap your forehead and say, "Why didn't I see that for myself?" But if no one ever does...

Here's an example I like to use because it bit me, at a time when I thought I was pretty damn good at writing:

There's something different about the first paragraph of every chapter in about half the fiction in your personal library. Without looking, can you tell what it is? Very few can. But it's something we see from the time we begin reading. If we could learn the tricks of writing for publication by reading, and miss something so obvious, how about the issues that aren't obvious?

My point is simple. And Mark Twain stated it beautifully with: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” The solution: Simplicity itself: Add the skills the pros take for granted to the nonfiction skills you already own. And, the information you need o the nuts-and-bolts basics is as near as the local free library, Better still, your computer can take you to pick up a personal copy in seconds, at nominal cost. And if a hopeful writer isn't willing to invest the cost of a dinner at a decent restaurant on theirr writer's education, can they really say they're a serious writer?

Unfortunately, simple and easy are not interchangeable. So the task isn't so matter of reading a bit and saying, "Oh...I see." And because you're now writing nonfiction as part of your job, the change from fact-based to emotion-based is going to be a b***h, because every time you try to change your existing writing reflexes, practiced till they feel intuitive, are going to grab for the controls and "fix" the writing. And because that change feels so natural, you're not going to notice it happening, often, even when you edit. But it does come, and when it does you'll wonder why you thought it hard.

So... You have the desire and the enthusiasm, even the necessary perseverance. Let's add some tricks of the trade to that.

First: Try this article: It's one very powerful way of placing the reader into the protagonist's bootprints, as the character—our avatar, not the subject of discussion. Used well, if someone throws a rock at your protagonist the reader will duck. And that's the kind of connection you need if the protagonist is to seem real, and worthy of the reader's attention.
http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php

Chew on it for a time, till it makes sense. think about how the method keeps you honest by forcing you to view the scene as the protagonist, and take his/her needs, resources, and necessities into account. Try rewriting the opening with it, to see what it forces you to do, and how that changes the story flow for the reader.

To see why a strong viewpoint is necessary, this article might help.
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/the-grumpy-writing-coach-8/

The technique in the first article is only one of many provided in the book it's condensed from. And that book, Dwight Swain's, Techniques of the Selling Writer, is what I'm suggesting you begin with. It spends not a word on issues of style. Nor does it provide "rules." Instead, the focus is on what a reader responds to, and why, and how to make that work for you. In fact, you're not being aware of what viewpoint does for you, and so, not taking it into account, is the reason you opened as you did, and why I commented as I did. Had you known of them before you wrote the scene, the opening would have been different. Couple that knowledge coupled with the information from that second article, and it becomes more meaningful to the reader.

And that's my point. The problems I pointed out aren't your fault. Nor are they a matter of talent or potential. It boils down to that Mark Twain quote, and eliminating those "just ain's so" issues.

While you wait for that Swain book to arrive, you might want to look at a few more articles in my writing blog. Most are based in issues covered in that book, and were meant for the hopeful writer.

So...this wasn't the kind of thing you expected to see when you posted. And it stings. I know, because I've been there. But on the other hand, with some tricks of the trade to give your words wings, who knows where you'll fly to?

So hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/