Characters in fantasy. Motive. Meaning. Mastery. Of what, of who, and where and when? These parts of a story are the hardest and most rewarding to write. Here is a hard scene from my recent book, Falcon Dagger.
“I would learn the sword from you.” Seldon’s voice was stiff, young.
Stubborn whelp. The broom anchored Rolf’s trembling hands and gave space for his harsh breath. His spear had taken lives enough in defense of right; that did not pain him. But he went out that last morn in a hellish anger, to prove by burning cold murder that he could wield a blade as well as Dugar.
But Dugar was not here. His nemesis was. Rolf could hardly get the words out, every muscle drawn tight as a bow. “My weapons are laid down before our Lord on account of him.” Fixing his gaze on Seldon, who stood straighter, if that were possible, Rolf said sternly, “I will not wield steel or iron. So, what is it to be, whelp? Why have you truly come?” …
Lester cleared his throat. “We came fer’ yer skill in more than blades, Rolf, if ye truly wilna’ take yer own. We’re in sore need of ye, and that’s God’s truth. Seldon doesna’ replace ye as a ten, though his tongue does fly quicker than yers. You’ve led us through tryin’ times before.” He grinned briefly. “None of us can fill the hole ye left. Ye kept us together, despite yer ill sword work. Ye made us more than we thought, somehow. If ye go before us, we fight to good purpose. Others would ‘ave us split to the winds. Indeed, folk hereabouts is right distrustful. Though if ye ask me, they’d be better watchin’ them men of the bishop of Richmond’s. Sword or no, we would stay with ye.” His face wrinkled, and his brown eyes looked pained.
Rolf stared at him, heart thundering. “Tempt me not, as you love me. I cannot touch the iron and trust myself. As for coming here, better that Cierheld stronghold welcomes your strong hands and loyal hearts, even the whelp’s.”
Seldon stepped forward, close to Rolf as a breath. “I am no whelp! My name is Seldon. And your men,” he looked uncertainly at Kilden, “they deserve more.” He stared into Rolf’s eyes. “When you fought me, you had a fire within. A fire I would follow.”
Rolf stared back. “That man is dead, never to live more on this earth. It is well he died.”
Rolf felt his smile breaking before them all, sharp and jagged. I near murdered you, for jealousy of another. His squad would join Cierheld’s armsmen. It was the only way. There, Seldon would not trouble him. Cierheld had armsmasters in plenty to train the whelp. His defeat at the Wall at Rolf’s hands would fade from his mind, with any thoughts of revenge or evil purpose. Mayhap he would find a use for his voice. The squad would find useful employment. They would forgive him.
Seldon looked at him, incredulous. “You waste yourself on moldy books and passing out bread when you could be securing grain for many, defending their lives far better with steel? You cannot be the man we were told to find.” Seldon searched his face. “No. I will not believe we have come all this way for nothing!” – Falcon Dagger, pg. 27
Some of Rolf’s motives were apparent to me from the first: his desire to save the people of Britannia, his desire for his old squad to think well of him, and his overriding desire to keep his word not to bear metal arms and to remain at the abbey where he is safe from temptation. But it became clearer as I wrote that Rolf’s determination to rule himself and determine his destiny by himself alone held the seeds of his destruction.
To achieve his goal and find the meaning he sought, and the mastery of his life, he would have to let go. Seldon’s secret motive, one of the reasons Rolf suspects him of foul play, is revealed near the end. Built to a point of tension, of course, on the interplay of all the motives that come before. Other characters’ conflicting motives show themselves interspersed throughout. Many threads of motive, meaning, and mastery I had to go back and strengthen after the rough draft was complete. What I believe about motive, meaning, and mastery finds its way into my writing, as this quote above shows, and the below excerpt from Fantastic Journey describes.
“The will—how delicate and how tough—at times a desert flower in bloom or an unbreakable Damascus blade.
The will can transform from one into the other as needed, especially with training. For sometimes it is good to be a flower, yielding to another the sweet perfume of friendship or love. At other times any yielding is perilous, and we must hold our purpose as strong as steel.
The testing of our motive to do right, of our will and our spirit is the toughest training, a hard course in how to truly live. Such testing pushes us beyond the mere motions of living—which is the coward’s way—to living with vigorous purpose, in steady knowledge that what we do makes a difference.
Maybe that is another reason we love the adventure of voyaging in the fantasy realm. For the magic and mystery of discovery, where choices matter and we impact everything we touch….
For in fantasy the lie is not so often told that everything is relative, and so of no real effect.
In fantasyland things of no effect find it very hard to breathe, ephemeral as mist, while the ground of choice, watered by acts of will, produce all manner of living things that stretch our spirits toward understanding, knowledge, and power. In fantasy you can, in fact you will, save a kingdom or lose it by what you believe, which drives what you do. And when you return to our world, what you did there touches here, the sphere we breathe in. – Fantastic Journey, pg. 74.
Every character in your story, in my story, will master or be mastered by various things. Driven by motive, etched in mastery and defeat, the meaning of Rolf’s story remains to be seen.
If you have read Falcon Dagger, you can trace Rolf’s path to meaning. If you have not, you can presently find the book on Amazon.
But we cannot neglect my favorite scene in Falcon Dagger. This one I loved. If you haven’t read the rest of the series, you may not see all the threads gathered in this scene, from past and present conflicts across the series. Still, I think you will get a sense of the stakes for Celine, the rise of old troubles, the loyalty of fast friendships, the pain of sharp misunderstandings, and the courage to face the future together. That is why I love this scene.
Celine swallowed. She would be worthy to walk between two first daughters. Even Esther would have to admit she was strong, no matter that she no longer spoke to her, except with a look of indifference that could reach across a room like a slap. Now that it came to it, it was hard. But she must show her, and Berd, and Kyrin, show everyone that she was worthy. Celine looked Myrna in the eye. “Will you keep Kyrin’s back while I am gone?”
“What?” Myrna gripped her sewing hard. “Celine, what foolishness do you mean to get yourself into now?”
Celine’s shoulders drooped. “Berd thinks little enough of me, and so much of his swords.” The bitterness in her words surprised her. “He says I’m not as strong as he. So, I am going to find the sword.” She looked up. “I’ll find it first.”
Myrna’s brow furrowed. “But why? You need prove nothing to him.”
“I am strong. I will not be defenseless again. Ever.” Celine yanked a thread from the edge of her apron. From Esther to those at court, their enemies would also learn she was to be reckoned with. “I am not to be left in the shadows. I am not sorry I chose Kyrin’s company instead of Esther’s.” As Berd said, Kyrin was kind, kinder than she deserved. A true friend, and so strong herself, though forced to walk gently for a time.
“But you are strong,” Myrna protested. “With a staff you are the match of most men—”
“Not like Kyrin.”
“Well, no.” Myrna sat back. “Of course not. No one is equal to Kyrin. But she’s had more training.”
Celine smiled. “You are generous, Myrna, and I love you for it. You keep me from becoming as wolfish as Esther, I think.”
Myrna shrugged, and her face colored. “Well, I will do what I can for Kyrin, though there are others far more suited to defend this house. But what did Berd say that made you think he does not esteem you?”
“He told me to use my head, and that Cieri has enemies, among other things.” Find your gifts, or finding the sword will destroy you.
Myrna swallowed. “He is right. Not about you; you most always use your head. But about our enemies.”
“Concerning them, Myrna, if any came for Kyrin, you would have an advantage. Your seeming frailty hides a will of steel. Rather like Kyrin’s falcon blade.”
“Go on, flatterer!” Myrna said with a smile and a shooing motion.
“I do not jest, Myrna, or not entirely.” Celine drew a breath. “I trust you. I do not trust Esther. Never again. And now that she is so much above me, she’s taken up with Thain Mornoth. We saw them at court, do you remember? He has a hard mouth, though his words can be sweet enough when he wishes. Mayhap they are alike in that. She suits him, I think.”
Myrna grimaced, then sighed. “I know. You may have a point. But I would not see you hurt again. And Berd? What else did he say?”
“He said we must all do what we can.”
“Oh, Celine—”
“He did not mean it ill, I think.” But he had meant she was not a worthy blade companion. That she could not forgive. Though now she felt a little ashamed. You mean Kyrin’s heir will need an armsman who knows what he is about? He had winced at her words.
“What do you mean, he did not mean it ill? When he knows what Esther did to you! What those men did to us? He ought to know how you would take it! Do what you can, my foot!” Myrna stood, her mouth a thin line. “You will find the sword first. We will count it a test of sorts. And he will learn our mettle.” She lifted her head, determined. “I know just the armsman who can help.” – Falcon Dagger, pg. 230
What is your favorite scene? Or if there’s anything else you’d like me to know about the book, please let us know in a review or a reply to my newsletter. Thank you!
And until next time, have a great week,
Azalea – Crossover – Find the Eternal, the Adventure
