Chosen of the One: Chapter 4, Part 1

27 December 2025

Today’s installment of our epic fantasy, Chosen of the One, introduces the third of our main characters, Klaybear, an apprentice kailu, as he goes to and enters the sacred glade of the kailum, the final step in his apprenticeship, where he is to receive a vision of his life’s mission; however, he meets someone unexpected, and then everything goes horribly wrong. . . . (18 November 2013). We again remind our readers to right-click on the Glossary link, open in a new tab or window, thus enabling the reader to learn what each of these new terms mean.

Chapter 4, Part 1

. . . then Gar went north
to Shigmar taking the disguise
of a kailu long absent from revered
halls of learning to enter the sacred
glade of visions where evil had never
walked before. . . .

from “The Great Year,” song cycle by Sir Kovar, written 3553

A lone, young wethi wandered the forested slopes of the Monti-stethreu, or “Mountains of the Fallen Star,” the range forming the northern border of the valley of Shigmar. The tall and broad shouldered wethi threw back his hood, revealing a mass of curly, brown hair. He placed one brown booted foot on the trunk of a fallen larch, cradled his wooden staff in the crook of his right arm, and hooked his left thumb in his wide leather belt. His brown eyes gazed at the forest surrounding him, seeing occasional patches of snow in sunken hollows and fresh new growth where the sun touched the forest floor. Squirrels poked heads out of holes, inspecting the world they had left in the grip of winter and seeking fresh morsels to satisfy the hunger born of a long winter’s sleep. The morning dew glistened and steamed wherever the sunlight touched; birds sang songs of renewal, passing overhead as they gathered twigs for new nests. The young wethi inhaled deeply the air heavy with the scents of fir and pine. He sighed as he exhaled. For him, the forest was paradise, his place to go for gathering strength and peace. He inhaled again and let the air escape slowly before stepping over the fallen larch and moving deeper into the forest.

His footfalls made no sound as he walked on the spongy mold of decaying leaves, needles, and bark. The path he followed climbed closer to the granite cliff face jutting out of the forest, winding and turning back on itself as it climbed toward the cliff. He heard the sound of water falling, growing to a roar as he left the trees and approached the cliff. He paused at the final switchback, admiring the line of cascading water issuing from a cleft overhead and falling to a small pool some fifty feet below. The sound of the water, swollen by the spring melt, drowned out the chatter of the birds bathing in the mist. He reluctantly turned from the view, climbed the last fifty yards, and entered what appeared from the distance to be a crack in the granite cliff. A short, damp tunnel ended in a smooth wall, which he tapped seven times with the end of his now green-glowing staff. With the seventh rap, faint silver lines appeared, tracing intricate designs that surrounded the symbol of Shigmar about chest-high in the stone face. He pulled a silver amulet from inside his green robes, hanging from a chain around his neck, and placed it on the glowing symbol. The silver lines flared before fading, and the stone became transparent as a doorway opened into the glade. Still holding the silver amulet before him, he stepped from the darkness of the tunnel into the sunlight filling the glade.

The clear blue sky bent down to touch the jagged, snow-capped mountains above him. Tall, ancient cedars filled the secret glade, blocking all other views. After Shigmar came to the valley to form his order of kailum, he received a vision of this secret glade and what he must do to enter. The first kailu found the waterfall and the narrow opening, and he created the orthek that would open the doorway and prevent the uninitiated from finding this secret place. In Shigmar’s order, the glade served as a place of vision and testing similar to the maghem’s Tower of Testing and the kortexem’s Mountain of Vision. At the end of his or her apprenticeship, the new kailu would go to the glade to be tested and perhaps receive a vision of his or her life’s work. Klaybear leaned on his staff and closed his eyes, drawing inner strength from the peace and solitude of the glade. As his vision turned inward, he felt the very air of the glade alive with elemental energy, and where the air touched his skin, the hair on his hands, face, and head tingled as the energy flowed from the surrounding air into his being. He shivered. Opening his eyes, he saw his hands and staff pulsing with power in time with the beating of his heart. Flash-flash, Flash-flash, Flash-flash . . . Flash-flash . . . the beat slowed, and he knew he had drawn too much energy. Flash . . . flash. He raised his staff and shouted the words, releasing a pillar of green fire heavenward, splitting the silence with reverberations that shook the ground and caused the ancient cedars to sway away from the fiery pillar, as if avoiding the unnatural concentration of elemental energy released by the kailu. Klaybear leaned heavily on his staff, swaying with the trees and again drawing energy from the air around him. He stopped the flow sooner this time, careful not to draw in too much. The last, distant rumbles of his fire faded, and he could almost hear the trees sigh patiently at another novice mistake, caused by the concentration of elemental forces in this sacred place.

“Forgive, ancient ones,” Klaybear said with a bow.

“They are used to it,” a new voice replied.

At the glade’s heart lay a small clearing with an altar of stones. Behind the altar, a boulder, shaped like a chair, held the wethi who had spoken, dressed in similar green robes, hood, tunic, and breeches. One black-booted foot rested across the other knee; the boots were shiny, without a spot; the robes crisp and ironed; the wethi’s dark brown hair and beard groomed perfectly, and his eyes blue and bright, like his smile. Klaybear moved slowly toward him, renewing his connection to the elemental forces of the glade without drawing any to himself.

“I am impressed by your childish display,” the stranger said; “do you often trouble the sky with such an ostentatious display of raw force?”

“I was warned of the energy filling this glade, although unprepared for how quickly it would over-replenish my reserves,” Klaybear replied. “So you are right in calling it ‘childish’; it was a novice mistake.” Klaybear halted in front of the altar, leaning on his staff. “Who are you?” he asked, “I don’t remember seeing you at any of the annual gatherings of the mekala.”

“A messenger, simply garbed in a manner that would be familiar to you,” the stranger replied.

“Who sent you?” Klaybear asked.

“No one,” the wethi said, and the blue of his eyes deepened, approaching violet.
“Then. . . .”

“I am both sent and sender, message and messenger. I am come to both open and close your vision, to inform and confuse, clear and cloud all the issues of your life.”

“What?” Klaybear asked, confused.

“You came seeking a vision, I sent and came myself to grant you a vision.”

Before Klaybear knew it had happened, his link to the elemental forces surrounding him was severed and the energy he held within himself drained away. His knees gave way, hands slipped from the staff, and his body sank into darkness.

Gar rose from his seat, eyes now a deep violet, and passed around the altar to where Klaybear lay in a heap. Stooping next to the fallen kailu, he grabbed the kailu’s right hand with his right hand; the unconscious Klaybear flinched at the touch of Gar’s hand. Smoke squirted from between their hands as the Lord of Evil continued to squeeze the fallen kailu’s hand, until a moan escaped from Klaybear. Then Gar released the hand, which continued to smolder, grunted some words, and Gar’s hand pulsed with red light. He pressed his glowing right hand against Klaybear’s forehead, the kailu arched in silent agony, and smoke again squirted from under Gar’s hand and between his red-glowing fingers. When the glow faded the Lord of Evil lifted his hand and examined the sign inscribed by fire into the fallen wethi’s forehead.

“Now your waking will be little better than the nightmare of your sleeping,” Gar said. “Awake, the sign will mark your separation from those whom you would save. Asleep, the sign will open visions of your future, and the horror of your visions will leave you sleepless. Then, perhaps, you will truly taste the bitterness of being chosen.”

Gar raised himself and faced the altar. His right hand held a ball of flame that he tossed onto the altar. The ball grew, brightened, and surrounded the altar. Sparks exploded from the altar’s flat surface, sizzling on the wet turf. The altar tumbled; the flames winked out, leaving the glade in mournful silence. The flat stone that had been the altar’s top now bore a mark, inscribed by flame from the same hand, similar to the mark, still smoldering on Klaybear’s forehead. Only after the fall of the altar did the Lord of Evil smile, his eyes becoming bright blue again. He gestured with his hand and a black archway opened in the air before him; he glanced once at the fallen kailu before stepping into the archway, which vanished as soon as he had passed through. . . .

Come back next time for another installment, when we will experience, with Klaybear, the full consequences of his encounter with Gar. Or, if you cannot wait until next week, download the entire novel from Smashwords for free!