A Chosen Life (28 page)

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Tolen crawled out from under the pile of timbers and stood up rubbing his jaw.

“That girl’s got a nasty temper.”

Tolen turned to see Nova standing beside the remains of the shanty, holding a basket in one hand and pointing to a string of grass fires leading into the forest with the other. A handful of people were rushing around with buckets of water to douse the flames.

“Here.” Nova held out the basket. “Dirt said you didn’t eat the breakfast he left in your tent and thought you’d need some food before you start training.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Tolen took the basket, but he had even less of an appetite now. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and his hands shook with anger.

“So you get to meet the Dominants today, huh?” Nova watched him with her head tilted to the side, her eyes wide and curious. Either oblivious or not caring about the waves of anger flowing off of him.

Tolen passed a hunk of cheese between his hands and tried to slow his breathing. “Yeah, I guess.” He couldn’t really focus on Nova and he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. A part of him wanted to go after Macy and force her to listen to reason, but the other part kept repeating her words.
He’d still be here if you weren’t so weak!

“Aren’t you excited? I mean you’re being trained by the Dominants. I’d be on the ninth cloud.”

Tolen’s neck prickled. His anger quickly replaced with a strange sense of anticipation mixed with apprehension. “I think you mean cloud nine,” he choked out.
Ninth . . . The Ninth shall lead them.
The strange feeling of déjà vu he’d felt when Jonas said those words came back stronger than ever. What did it mean? He looked out the corner of his eye to see Nova watching him with her eyebrows raised. Could she know something? If she did, would she even tell him? Should he even ask her to tell him?

Be careful Tolen
. . . Bastian’s warning in his head was so loud Tolen jumped.

“Are you okay?” Nova touched his arm. Tolen’s skin burned beneath her fingers and his Watcher’s eye dilated, pulling in her features. Her eyes were concerned, but there was something else in them, something elusive. She blinked and it was gone.

“I’m . . . not sure.” He walked over to sit on a log marking the path. “I think I need a second.”

“Should I go get the Houseman?” she asked, looking toward camp.

“No, I’m fine. I just want to sit for a minute.” Should he ask her?

Bastian’s voice echoed in his head again.
Be careful.

Why? Why did he need to be careful? It was just a random comment. Wasn’t it?

And then he knew, knew from the pounding in his heart, the warmth of his shard against his chest, the growing need to know what this tiny little sentence meant. This was it. This was the big secret that Bastian said he wasn’t ready to know.

Tolen clenched his teeth as a surge of reckless frustration passed through him—imagined warnings or not, he
was
ready to know, despite what anyone else thought.

He ran his hand through his hair. “Nova, can I ask you something?” His heart pounded out a nervous rhythm in his chest.

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure.”

He took a deep breath and faltered. Nova was a follower of Light. She was beautiful and kind, but he didn’t know her. Maybe this was why he could ask her though. She would have no idea he wasn’t
supposed
to know . . . .

Suddenly the idea of going against Bastian’s wishes made him break out in a sweat.

“Tolen?” She was starting to look nervous. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He chuckled anxiously and started kicking the ground with the toe of his shoe. He took a deep breath and swallowed. He needed to hurry, Incrah could show up any minute, but he wasn’t even sure how to ask for what he wanted. “Can you . . . can you tell me about—what the Ninth is?”

Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline. “You mean
you
don’t know the legend?”

“No.”

“W-O-W.” She mouthed the word. “Um, if
you
don’t know then . . . maybe . . . you’re not supposed to.”

Tolen squeezed his eyes shut. “I figured you’d say something like that.” He glanced up to see her studying his face. He looked away and she touched his chin, forcing him to look at her—his stomach gave an uncomfortable flip when their eyes met.

She sighed. “The Ninth Chosen is a really old legend. I don’t know it word for word, but I can give you the basics. My brother used to tell it to scare me when I was little.” She dropped her hand from his chin but grabbed his hand. His heart thudded in his chest. It felt weird letting her hold his hand, but also strangely comforting.

“I’m sure you’ve been told about Light and Dark?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“The Balance?”

He nodded again.

“Good. Well, thousands of years ago during the Radia Revolution,” she glanced over, and satisfied that he didn’t look confused, went on, “before each Watcher set off after the Chosen ones, a prophecy was made by the oldest Guardian. The day would come when more Beings, including humans, would choose the ways of the Dark over Light. The Dark would become so powerful in both worlds that it would cause a collapse in the Balance. The dimensional barrier between our worlds would break down and the strength of the Light that has kept the worst of the creatures of the Dark imprisoned would cease.

“You’ve fought Raksasha and DéHool; now try to imagine something far worse, worse than every nightmare you’ve ever had, and every horror you’ve ever possibly imagined, running rampant, killing, and destroying everything they meet that stands in their way.

“The earth as we know it would no longer exist. The human race would be exterminated, the followers of Light eradicated.”

Tolen swallowed.

Nova twisted her hair around her fingers. “The Guardians had to find a way—some last chance for the good in the world. They begged and pleaded with the Light, they held council after council with the Radia Warriors, Protectors, and the Watchers.

“At a point when they feared there was no hope, the Light set one last Radia shard free. It went to the oldest Watcher in the Hidden. His name was Eamun Woodlore. Through the Last Shard, Eamun was given the prophecy of the Ninth. As the Dark grew and the Balance tipped more in their favor, the Last would select a Watcher and send its power to his Chosen shard. The gifted shard would then find a life force so pure and good that the Dark could not influence it. The Shard would then give this child a piece of every Hidden gift. These
unlimited
gifts would give them the strength and ability needed to unite the Chosen, as well as all fighters for Light, in a Final Battle against the Dark, for the hope of all Beings.

“The Guardians sent Eamun into hiding to protect the Last Shard. They have been waiting for the arrival of the Ninth Chosen ever since.”

“The Ninth
Chosen
?” Tolen whispered.

“Yes.”

“It’s not a group? It’s just one person?”

Nova squeezed Tolen’s hand tighter. “Yes.”

“Are you two through?” Incrah stood over them his eyes livid, his nostrils flared.

A look of terror flashed across Nova’s face and she almost fell over in her hurry to leave. She didn’t even give Tolen a parting glance as she scurried away, leaving her basket behind.

Tolen looked up into the eyes of the Radia Warrior, not knowing what to say, how to take what he’d just learned.

Incrah’s eyes softened to a look of pity. “Put it out of your mind for now Tolen. It is time to train. The Dominants are waiting.”

Tolen stood up and shook his head. “Incrah, I’m sorry I can’t. I-I just—” He turned on his heel and staggered back toward his tent; shame, guilt, worry, fear, and anger all vying for the biggest spot in the storm cloud of emotions swirling over him. He passed people, but saw no faces as he stumbled along the dusty trail. A tiny part of him was surprised Incrah hadn’t tried to stop him, but the bigger part couldn’t care. He barely made it through the tent door before he dropped to his knees.

For years he’d wanted to know who he was, what he was. And when Bastian and Macy showed up at his door, he felt sure he was going to get some answers. But the Watcher said he wasn’t ready to know everything. He’d determined to learn, train, prove himself ready to know the full truth. He’d thought he’d found a friend and ally in Macy. But as the full weight of the Legend of the Ninth settled over Tolen, he knew just as he’d been wrong about Macy, he’d been wrong not to accept Bastian’s plan. Even though he didn’t fully understand what it meant, he felt no comfort, no relief in this new knowledge, only rising dread as the thought pressed down on his mind and heart.

I am the Ninth Chosen.

And he was not ready.

Acknowledgements

With the second edition of
The Shadow Prison
, now called
The Chosen Chronicles: A Chosen Life,
I have several incredible new people to thank, along with all those who have been with me since the beginning.

First, I must thank Heather Godfrey, Kirk Edwards, and all the amazing people at Snowy Peaks Media who loved this story from the beginning, and stood behind me with their encouragement and support as we took it to the next level. Thank you for this opportunity. You guys are fabulous!

I also want to thank my husband, Brent, and my two awesome kids for all the excitement, love, and super cool ideas; my parents, Jan and Jacy, for always being my biggest fans; my sisters-in-law, Staci and Tricia, for cheering me on and taking care of my social media needs; and all my remarkable friends for the love and encouragement when I need it most. I am truly blessed.

Big hugs and immense gratitude go out to my first edition beta readers and reviewers for all your advice, support, heart-warming and encouraging comments, and
positive
criticism that kept me writing and trying harder. I hope you find what you asked for in this edition.

Big thanks also to my second edition helpers: Dawn, Lisa, Angie, Suzie, Heather, and Laura for your character insights, and my new beta readers KayLynn, Kirk, TayLyn, Andrea, and Shannon.

Thank you David P. King, amazing author and ultimate blogger, for such a stellar review.

Thanks to Deborah Bradseth of Tugboat Design for her incredible talent designing the cover for this second edition, and to KayLynn for the gorgeous interior. You both are truly gems. Love ya!

And finally, I once again want to thank all the incredible youth I’ve had the privilege to work with over the years. This is all because of you.

Coming Soon

Book Two in
The Chosen Chronicles

The Shadow Prison

Excerpt

The Chosen Chronicles:
The Shadow Prison

He wasn’t alone.

The feeling that someone was watching him pulled Tolen from his restless sleep. He opened his eyes to see Jonas—the ancient guardian for the Radia Warrior camp that Tolen temporarily called home—sitting beside the cot, knobby hands folded across his cane, focused intently on Tolen’s face.

Tolen sat up quickly and the blood rushed from his head, making Jonas appear blurry. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his scratchy throat. He’d slept terribly, his mind spinning like a carousel all night, tossing garbled images and sounds around and around, while his subconscious tried, and failed, to make sense of it all.

“Good morning Tolen,” Jonas whispered.

“Is it?” Tolen mumbled while rubbing his temples.

Jonas shrugged his thin shoulders. “I suppose that is up to you.”

Tolen knew why Jonas was in his tent watching him sleep, but figured he’d let the old guy bring it up, since honestly, he really didn’t want to talk about it, but knew he’d have no choice. He leaned over, tugged on his sneakers, walked over to the metal basin, and splashed some of the cool water onto his face. The icy water dripped on his bare shoulders. He tugged a faded green shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his damp chocolate colored hair—all while trying to ignore that he had an audience.

Jonas waited until Tolen had sat back down on his cot, propped his elbows on his knees, and met the old man’s eyes, before speaking.

“You had a difficult day yesterday.”

Tolen looked at his clasped hands and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything hard.”

“I said difficult, not hard.”

Tolen raised an eyebrow at the strange old man.

“Gift and weapon training is hard,
difficult
is accepting what you do not understand.”

“How can you accept something you don’t understand?” Tolen shook his head in frustration.

Jonas tapped his fingers on his cane. “Truth is truth whether it makes sense or not. That’s why you couldn’t deny what you learned, even if you didn’t fully understand it. Yet.”

Tolen thought back to what Nova told him about the Legend of the Ninth Chosen, how he’d known it was him, even though it made no sense. He looked into Jonas’s strange eyes and saw a hint of a twinkle behind the cobwebbed surface.

He looked back at his hands and kept his eyes down as he asked, “Bastian told me I wasn’t ready to know my destiny yet, that it wasn’t the right time.” He heard Jonas shift on his seat. “But, yesterday, Nova . . . I . . . she said some things, some things that . . .”

“She said some things that got your heart pounding and your mind working,” Jonas prompted.

Tolen nodded.

Jonas took a noisy breath. “That was your body’s response to truth.” He waved his hand. Tolen could just see the tips of his fingers from his bowed position as they swished by. “Go on.”

“There are only eight gifts.”

“Yes.”

“You said something along the lines of ‘the Ninth shall lead them’ when I first met you.”

“Yes.”

“I can do a combination of things that no other Hidden or Chosen can do.”

“Yes. Yes you can.”

“So, my destiny . . .” Tolen gulped. “I-I’m supposed to be some sort of leader?”

Jonas leaned forward and Tolen looked up to see his expression was very grave. “That is a crucial
piece
of your destiny, yes, Tolen. But it encompasses far, far more than that.”

Tolen met the old man’s gaze and tried for confidence, but his insides were wriggling. How could he, a consistently dangerous failure, lead anyone? “Can you tell me—?”

Jonas was shaking his head before the question had completely left Tolen’s lips. “No, Tolen. The Watcher is right. There is much you still need to learn before you are ready to accept the grander part of your destiny.”

Tolen’s stomach twisted. More secrets. His hands closed into fists in his lap. How much worse could it be? He wasn’t running away from it even if he wasn’t ready. He’d been doing things beyond what was expected of him for years. Didn’t that count for something? He’d been making decisions that would have qualified him as a man in the human world since he was twelve years old, caring for his sick mother, responsible for their food and bills.

A glimmer of fear quelled his inner argument. What if all this secrecy was because he was as dangerous as he feared? He shook off the thought and leaned back until his shoulders brushed the side of the tent. “How am I supposed to fulfill a destiny I don’t even know?” he tried to keep his tone calm, but his frustration leaked through.

Jonas shook his head. “Your desires are fueled by anger and guilt, neither of which are good sources of energy to drive your intentions. Until you want to know for the right reasons, the knowledge will only hurt you, and slow your progress toward the ultimate purpose of your destiny.”

Tolen bit back a retort that would just prove the old man right, and instead pushed on to something else. “Bastian said that the Light wanted me to try to save my dad from the Shadow Prison. I really think that the Dark might have my mom there too.” He took a deep breath and plowed on, ignoring the regretful look forming on Jonas’s face. “Bastian said he would ask the warriors here to help me, but since h-he’s gone, I . . . I’m asking you. Will you help me?”

Jonas stared back until Tolen’s hands started to shake and he had to look away. “Tolen, when is your eighteenth birthday?”

This question was so far off base that Tolen’s hands stopped shaking and he glanced back into Jonas’s lined face. “July tenth.”

Jonas nodded slowly and ran his thumb across his crinkly chin, his eyes deep in thought. Calculating. “Less than a month away.”

Tolen swallowed and nodded, not daring to hope that this weird twist in conversation had something to do with helping him.

“Has anyone told you of Transcendence?”

“Transcendence?” Tolen shook his head.

Jonas nodded as if unsurprised. “Transcendence is the point at which the physical body and the metaphysical gifts of the Light fully intersect and become one. It is the time when your powers, your
gifts
, reach their peak, their strongest. This always takes place on the eighteenth birthday.” He leaned forward and the gravity of his next words sent a thrill of fear over Tolen. “At your Transcendence, Tolen, not even the Spheres of the citadel will be able to shield you if you don’t learn enough. If you don’t exercise patience, learn all you can, and master your anger, when you transcend, the Dark will take you for their own.” He tapped his temple. “Work hard, Tolen, focus, discover the right fuel for your desires, and then we will help you. The journey to save your father, and possibly your mother, will be fraught with danger and much difficulty. It is not an idle task. If you are not ready to face the darkness of the Shadow Prison, if you are too close to the time of your Transcendence and your gifts are too erratic, it would be a mission destined to fail, no matter the amount of warriors who went with you.”

Tolen bit his lip as the truth settled over him. He was dangerous. He knew this. Could he really expect others to follow him on a quest to save his parents when he could be the very reason they would fail? “Maybe . . . Maybe the Radia Warriors can go without me? Maybe they can find a way to save him—them?”

Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Tolen, there is something you need to understand about your Watcher gift. You saw your father because
you
are meant to watch over him. In your visions, did you see anyone besides yourself in there with him?”

Tolen shook his head as the nightmare filled his mind—his father on the floor, Tolen standing above him, helpless to do anything. “No. It was just the two of us.”

“A Watcher sees flashes of present, possibility, and set future.” Jonas pointed to Tolen’s eye. “If the vision you beheld showed only yourself, then it is very likely that you are the only one who holds the key to his rescue. Other unseen factors
may
have played a role, but ultimately, no matter how many warriors I send, you may be the only one with the tools to succeed. I do not want to send my family into a losing battle. Tell me if your visions change, but until then, Tolen, I suggest you work to make yourself ready to achieve what your visions are urging you to attempt. When I feel you are ready, when I feel you are strong enough, and in control, I will ask my warriors to go with you.”