The Girl and the Golden Mirror

By Travis A. Chapman

Prequel to Ascent of the Fallen, Book I of the Chronicles. Set almost a decade before, Lord Fallondon Breck is a young knight searching for glory and purpose in the Kingdom of Heaven. After campaigns near Jerusalem he is stationed along the pilgrim road in Syria and tasked with an important mission: find and stop an unknown killer crucifying those traveling to Antioch.

Fallondon's company of knights are dispatched to Ghmam, a remote village in the hills near Tishreen. Before he can do anything about his errand, he must face his most challenging trial: winning over the villagers, their proud leader, his resourceful son, and his beautiful daughter. Little does Fallondon know that the spiritual forces of darkness are already set against him.

This prequel novella tells the tale of how crusader knight Lord Fallondon Breck met his love, won his spurs, and faced down evil. It's a blend of Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker-inspired spiritual warfare combined with the action and adventure of Kingdom of Heaven, Robin Hood, and The 13th Warrior. If you enjoy Christian fantasy mixed with military-inspired action and 12th century historical fiction, you'll love this! Join Lord Fallondon Breck and his knights as they challenge evil and seek to recover their most precious reward: their own hearts.

Favorite beta reader comment: "I didn't put it down it was that good. Finished in one sitting!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Travis A. Chapman
• Release date: Jul 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370610662

Travis A. Chapman

Travis A. Chapman is trying his best to be Teddy Roosevelt, Edmond Dantes, and Indiana Jones all at once, a Renaissance man of multiple talents and a lifelong experience collector. In various forms, he's a follower of Jesus, U.S. Naval Academy graduate, submarine officer, engineer, author, blue-water and coastal sailor, hiker, rocker-of-the-Renn-Fest, dog-lover, and loving husband. He's doing his best to enjoy living in the horse-country of Maryland, watching the wind whistle through the trees, and can occasionally be found sailing the Middle River. I love writing clean fantasy and sci-fi influenced by my own experiences in the military and other spheres. I am still mentored by the writings of C.S. Lewis'; Chronicles of Narnia, and hope to provide another voice of inspiration for a wide world. I have several works in progress, including Books II and III of the Chronicles of Outremer, a prequel short story, several other series, and some non-fiction books. You can check out more of my work and perspectives on part-time authorship at my website: www.thoriumpublishing.com Sign up for the highly infrequent but completely worth reading newsletter, check out how the Chronicles of Outremer came to be, and see what else is stewing in the pot. You can also check out more frequent updates on all things inspiring, interesting, and author-related at my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/thoriumpublishing/ Thank you for checking out my author page! I hope you enjoy the journey of faith and discovery with Lord Fallondon Breck and his company of knights. Stay tuned for more!

Book preview

The Girl and the Golden Mirror

Chronicles of the Way and the Darkness: Prequel

Travis A. Chapman

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© 2017 Travis A. Chapman

All rights reserved

Smashwords Edition

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ISBN: 9781370610662

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Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Cover Design: Thorium Designs

Publisher: Thorium Publishing (via Smashwords, Inc.)

First Edition

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The Year of Our Lord, 1185

Men across Europe have taken the Cross and travel to Outremer by ship, horse, and afoot. The Kingdom of Jerusalem, the Kingdom of Heaven. Thousands upon thousands follow after dreams and promises. A company of knights led by a young Lord Fallondon Breck arrive in the Principality of Antioch. Their mission yet unknown, their bodies weary from battles in the south. Haunted by demons and bitter memories.

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For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

Chapter 1

Sensual thoughts filled the mind. The silk voice was ethereal and powerful. It spoke many things. Words of confirmation, admiration, and a call to glory. It was strength and stay when so many troubles haunted the sleeper.

You deserve revenge. No one deserves it more. You have it within you.

Restlessness. Twisting and turning, recalling memories long buried under dry sand. Fire and arrows laying waste all around.

Pain.

Tears.

Loss.

There are allies who would help. Allies like you who hear my voice. They are not like their peers. They, too, seek revenge at any cost. Revenge for things stolen. For lost kindred. Allies with strength and iron conviction. Allies with steel and a will to use it.

Pain.

Emptiness.

Loneliness.

Pressing, heavy, like seeking little treasures along the bottom of Tishreen Lake as children. Holding breath till it ached inside. The weight of the waters above threatening to crush little lungs in a watery grave.

I will lead you to them.

Hills. Stone paths. A cave.

Chapter 2

The stone walls of Saone stood silent watch over the mountain pass. Indistinguishable from the rugged cliffs and tumbling rock falls, the grey and tan blocks caught the eye only by their straight lines and geometric harmony. It was an impressive and awe-inspiring presence to any on the road. Flashes of steel and the crack of banners caught in strong winds helped too. A sleeping giant that stirred in slumber. The keep’s occupants preferred to deter enemies when possible.

I followed the young page through a series of passageways, each unremarkable and like the next. He must be nine, maybe ten years old at the most. At that age, one always wondered. Are you a child of this war, or were you unfortunate enough to have been brought here by an eager father?

Hart had to duck beneath several low archways. The big man looked uncomfortable in such close spaces. I couldn’t blame him; we were deep in the fortress now. Growing up in my family’s demesne in England, we spent most of our time outdoors. Running across pastures and commons, vaulting sheep in the crofts, fighting imaginary foes through the hedgerows. Our keep was small, mostly common room and tower. He was practically brother to me. Who’d have imagined? A Saxon of middling birth and the second son of a noble Norman line, here together across the face of the world.

Inside the labyrinth of passageways, somewhere near the top of the main fortification, a large, dry chamber trapped the master of Saone in his duties. Piles of paper, record books, seals, chests, and candles littered a great wooden table doing service as a desk. Several braziers threw off light in the room and added to the tiny streaks of daylight let in from narrow slits high above. Little more than murder ports, they let in a feeble illumination and no air. Pungent smoke hung in the air with a hellish scent. A mixture of old meals, men’s sweat, burnt charcoal, and bitterness lingered in the stagnant air.

Our sandy-haired escort stood by the open door and pounded. Impertinent little whelp. I wonder if the master beat him for such forthrightness? My father wouldn’t have brooked such audacity. All of the Breck boys, and many of the pages and squires from neighboring noblemen, had cut switches for acts of rudeness. I stood behind and took in the chamber while waiting a reply. Master of Saone seemed more like a prison sentence than something one aspired. The pudgy man raised his face and called out in a forlorn voice, Enter.

We came through the portal. The master’s eyes weighed us as we approached. Two young knights. We probably looked hardly past twenty summers. Bright eyes, strong arms, broad chests. Scruffy beards, neither too short nor too long. No different than thousands of our following in this land.

You look like you’ve seen the road judging by your cloths and boots. Who are you, and why are you here? A Norman, like me. No ‘Ye’s’ and ‘Yer’s’ in his speech. A pitchy voice though, the kind that sat behind desks all day instead of leading charges.

I stood tall, flattening the blue tabard over my maille, a once white hound and hind chasing one another embroidered over my chest. I tipped my head in obeisance, M’lord, I am Fallondon Breck, second son of Lord Walter Breck of Breckshire. We’ve just come up from Ascalon outside Jerusalem, and were told to report to Saone for duty with you.

The master leaned back in his chair, wood creaking against his bulk. Sitting around the keep and fighting the war with administration hadn’t left much time for fitness. I could sense he knew I was making that judgment against him. His eyes said as much and betrayed his thoughts. Youth. Soon enough it will be you locked away in a tower, too busy dealing with other men’s problems to see to your own.

Yea, so I’ve heard. Did you take ship, or did you march? Never mind, it’s all the same anyways. You ride with Amalric of Breckshire, I believe?

My uncle, sir.

Pudgy face nodded, We’ve received word of your exploits in the south. I’m Robert, master here at Saone. Your company is being recalled to Antioch, is that right? Who is your companion here? Looks like a strong boy himself.

Tipping his head, he spoke clearly and loud in the small space. I’m Hart, m’lord. One of Fallon’s liegemen from Breckshire. We’ve ridden together with Lord Amalric for two years now. He gave us word that we were to split from the main host and take the road through Saone for an errand yer grace. Hart’s Saxon accent was strong as ever, a subtle reminder of his heritage. Years after Normans came to England’s shores it remained the easiest way to distinguish our people.

Robert’s voice brightened a bit sarcastically, That’s right. We’re having a spot of local trouble and I need someone to manage it. Amalric was the first to return my summons. It seems you gentlemen are my solution…or as much as I’ll get. The master shuffled papers in a vain search for something at his table. If there was organization, I could not guess what it was.

I produced a script from beneath my tabard, handing it to the older man. I’m sure he was stuck behind the table. Here, m’lord. This is what we received. It didn’t describe the nature of the issue though. Prithee tell.

He began reading the script, muttering to himself, before I continued, It also didn’t say what resources we’d have at our disposal. I see there are plenty of men here at the keep. Looks like more than enough to cover your watches. They’d be welcome to ride with us. Might be better for them to get out than sit around dicing all the day long.

Robert lifted his eyes at my bluntness. "Yea, the errand. Trouble on the road further west of here. Are you familiar with the region? No? I figured as much. You must have reached Outremer by sea then. Well, lad, let me tell you. This land is fit to burst like a pox boil. It will pop of its own accord if we don’t see to it. Saracens are trying hard to push us back into the sea. Saracens control