Chosen of the One: Chapter 18, Part 2

27 February 2026

Welcome back for the final installment of the first book of The Redemption series, Chosen of the One! Get the entire book for free from Smashwords. Klaybear, with divine help, has managed to repair Klare’s mind before the entire pattern unraveled; this week, the chosen begin to carry out the instructions of the One, and we conclude with a ‘tantrum’ thrown by Gar. . . . (30 June 2014) 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 18, Part 2

Klaybear sighed and sank against Klare’s chair; she was slumped onto the table. He saw Thal leaning against Tevvy’s chair; the awemi was also slumped onto the table. Sweat glistened on the maghi’s face, and he felt his own face slick with sweat. He saw that the others, although their eyes were bright, looked astonished by what they had witnessed. His eyes were drawn beyond the kortexi to a shelf behind him; white light emanated from an ornately carved chest, with the same hand-shaped indentation carved into its lid.

“Blakstar,” Klaybear said weakly, “would you get the glowing chest on the shelf behind you and bring it to the table. I believe it contains the artifacts we all need to wear.”

Blakstar did not move; he seemed stunned. “That was,” he stammered, “was . . . was . . . the . . . One!”

Klaybear nodded once, trying not to think about what the kortexi said. “The chest, please.”

“That . . . was . . . ,” Blakstar continued to stammer, “the same voice . . . that . . . that . . . spoke to me . . . I saw his face in the Mountain.”

Delgart stood and went to the shelf, taking down the chest and carrying it back to the table. “There is an inscription on the lid,” he noted, looking up at the others.

Thal moved slowly to the head of the table next to Delgart and ran his finger over the inscription. “It reads,” he said after a moment, “verghrenum: for the chosen and their mates,” and he went on, anticipating the next question, “the word, verghrenum, means, basically, ‘thought-protector,’ so they are meant to protect our minds from Gar and his minions.”

“This must be another of the doors,” Delgart said and placed his right hand into the indentation, the lock clicked, then he opened the chest. “There are several pairs of bracers in here,” he noted, “in green and brown leather with the crown symbol,” he added, pulling out a pair and handing them to Marilee, who, with Klaybear, had come to stand beside Delgart. “By their size,” Delgart noted, “these must be yours, so one pair of these must be mine.” He pulled out two larger pairs that were the same size; the only difference between them that Klaybear could see, was that the crown symbol was larger on one pair than on the other pair. He also noticed that the pair with the smaller crown had the head of an aperu carved beneath the crown on each bracer. Delgart first tried the pair with the smaller crown, but they would not slide onto his wrists, so he took the pair with the larger crown symbol, which slipped easily onto his wrists, and Klaybear noticed that his older brother flushed slightly as he pulled them onto his wrists; Marilee reached out and tightened and tied the laces of both, then held out her arms, so that he could do the same for her. Delgart’s cheeks colored brightly when he saw both Klaybear and Marilee looking at the large crown symbols on his wrists, so he turned back to the chest. He removed a pair of white leather and silver bracers, and Klaybear saw that they were embossed with the Eye of Melbarth; Delgart handed them to Thal.

“These must be yours,” Delgart said, trying to hide his embarrassment by turning quickly back to the chest.

Thal slipped them over his hands; Marilee helped him tighten and tie the laces.

“There is another, even smaller, pair of bracers,” Delgart said, “smaller and darker; the light seems to fall into this pair.” He handed them to Marilee. “They must be Tevvy’s.”

Thal helped Marilee strap the bracers onto the awemi’s wrists; each was embossed in the shape of the symbol on his stool.

“There is another pair,” Delgart said, taking a pair of green bracers embossed with a symbol shaped like a hand. He handed them to his brother, who slid them onto his wrists; he held out his arms while Thal and Marilee tightened and tied the laces.

“These must be for Klare,” Delgart said, taking a pair of wide, golden-yellow bracelets from the chest, handing them to his brother. Klaybear clasped them onto each of his wife’s wrists.

“And these,” Delgart said, holding up a pair of white and gold studded leather bracers, embossed with a symbol in the shape of a water vessel, “must be Blakstar’s.” He turned to the kortexi, who still sat with his head bowed. They could see tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. Delgart slipped one of them onto Blakstar’s wrist and passed the second to Marilee, who had come back around the table; she slid it on, and both verghrenum were tied into place.

This seemed to bring the kortexi out of himself; he looked up at the others. “I am unworthy to receive such a visit.”

Thal snorted. “If that were true,” he said, “you would be dead, since no one who is unworthy can stand in the presence of the One.”

“That is true,” Klaybear said, “and we need you to do the next two parts of our instructions: you need to heal Tevvy and Klare.”

“But you are . . . ,” Blakstar started to say but stopped, realizing what he had to do. He stood, wiped his eyes, and looked at the others. “I apologize for my behavior; I am Sir Karble reborn, and should not behave this way.”

Thal started to laugh, but Klaybear dug an elbow into his ribs, and he started to cough instead.

“You have not behaved badly,” Delgart said, “there is no need to apologize.”

“But I . . . ,” the kortexi began.

Delgart stopped him. “There is no need,” he said again.

Blakstar nodded, turned, moved around the table. He took the special flask from his belt and unstoppered it as he approached Tevvy. “Hold up his head,” he said. Thal was closest, although he still coughed slightly, holding up the awemi’s head. Blakstar opened Tevvy’s mouth and poured some of the Waters of Life in, then held his mouth closed.

Tevvy swallowed, his eyes opened suddenly, and he tried to rise. “There is work I must do!” he exclaimed, struggling to get to his feet.

Blakstar put a hand on his shoulder, and speaking in a strong, calm voice, said, “Peace, my friend. The Waters of Life are potent; rest a moment before you leave to do your work.”

Tevvy smiled at the kortexi; Blakstar could not resist smiling in return. The kortexi moved to Klare.

“I think we should put her to sleep,” Blakstar said to Klaybear, “as her hurts were greater than his.”

“I had that thought,” Klaybear agreed. He had moved his chair closer to hers and now cradled her head in his arms.

Blakstar carefully opened Klare’s mouth, pouring in some of the Waters; he closed her mouth while Klaybear stroked her neck. She swallowed, her eyes began to flutter, and the kortexi put his free hand on her shoulder, whispering the ritual words: “Peace, the Waters of Life are potent.”

Klaybear touched her forehead and spoke the word, “supno,” sending her into a dreamless slumber. “We should make a place to lay her down,” he said, looking around.

Delgart looked around the chamber; they had been so busy with other things that no one had taken the opportunity to examine this place. “There are doors on either end of the room,” he said, standing and moving to the door nearest. Klaybear heard a door open. “There are beds in here,” Delgart said.

Klaybear stood with Blakstar’s help, picking up his wife and carrying her into the side room. Delgart helped him place her on the bed and remove the chain mail and belt she wore. Klaybear carefully covered her with a blanket and slipped quietly from the room. He left the door ajar, then returned to where the others waited.

“Now,” Klaybear said, “Blakstar needs to send Delgart and Marilee to Holvar with Rokwolf’s verghrenum.”

Blakstar nodded.

“Do you know where to send them?” Klaybear asked.

Blakstar nodded again. “I think so,” he said, “at least, there is an image in my mind, that was not there before, of where I need to send them.” He took out his sword and prepared to open a door.

Delgart went to the table and picked up the verghrenum with the crown symbol, closing the lid of the chest; he turned and swiftly embraced his brother. “Be well, my brother.”

“And you,” Klaybear replied.

“And say goodbye to my sister, for me,” he added, a grin twisting his damaged face.

Klaybear smiled. “I will.”

The kortexi drew a circle on the floor, the pommel stone glowing brightly, and the line burned with golden fire, then he lifted the sword point, drawing a gray, shimmering arch in the air, touching the sword’s point to the circle’s other side. The gray, shimmering arch winked on, opening into a small room with a bed and desk, at which a wethi, who looked more like Delgart than Klaybear, sat writing. He looked up in time to see Marilee, followed by Delgart, step through the arch.

“You are well!” he exclaimed as he stood, moving forward to embrace Marilee.

Just before the kortexi lifted his sword, they saw Rokwolf look at Delgart, saw the recognition blooming on his face, and Klaybear said, “Hail Rokwolf! Brother! Chosen of the One!”

Rokwolf looked into the arch and saw Klaybear. “How?” he asked, but at the moment he spoke his question, the kortexi lifted his sword, the arch winked out, and Blakstar slumped onto the floor.

“Open the other bedroom door, Tevvy,” Klaybear said, as he and Thal went forward to lift Blakstar to his feet. They supported him on either side as he stumbled toward the door and a bed to rest on. He slid onto the bed; Klaybear and Thal helped him remove his belt, boots, and mail shirt, slipping his sword back into its scabbard.

“Now do you trust me?” Tevvy asked from the door.

Blakstar shrugged and went limp, his breathing becoming slow and even.

“Well,” Tevvy said, half-grinning, “I guess that will do for now.” He closed the door after the others left the room. “I guess it’s time for me to go to work,” he said. “But I need a coil of rope.”

Klaybear nodded. “And for us to open the door, as we were instructed,” he said. He looked over to the shelf where the chest had been. “Check the shelf,” he pointed.

Tevvy moved around the table to the shelf, bent down, and pulled a coil of rope off the bottom shelf. He held it up for the others to see, smiling. “They did think of everything.”

Klaybear smiled. They moved toward the doorway out of the chamber.

“You need to be extra-careful,” Thal said, “for we have learned that we are all part of some larger plan. I’m certain that Gar has shared your description with his minions here in Shigmar, so do not think that you will not be recognized.”

Tevvy nodded. “I’m always careful,” he said and looked up. “Didn’t I manage to get you out of the school dungeon? This is easy by comparison.” He smiled mischievously. “Who is Elker?” he asked, suddenly thoughtful.

Klaybear shook his head. “I do not know.”

“You do,” Thal said, as they stopped in front of the door, “that was Gar’s name originally, before he was cast into the underworld, where he shortened it to ‘Gar.’”

“I never before made that connection,” Klaybear noted.

“Which brings up another thing,” Thal began, “what will happen when we open this door?”

“Wait a minute,” Tevvy said, “if time out there has slowed, how come we saw your brother moving? How were Delgart and Marilee able to move into his room?”

Klaybear gasped. “You are right!” he exclaimed. “When we went, mentally, to where Gar was, we found him frozen in time, as he should have been, but when we sent Delgart and Marilee to Rokwolf’s room in Holvar, they were able to enter physically into a space outside of this chamber. Shouldn’t they also have been frozen in time, trapped in the act of entering Rokwolf’s room?”

Thal thought for a moment before he replied. “I would guess that it was the sword that did it, since this power of the sword to open a doorway directly and instantly to a place far away disrupts all known laws of time and space. The sword, in the act of opening the door, brought Rokwolf’s time stream into sync with ours, allowing them to enter his room. I’d bet that now that the door is closed, they are caught in that moment, unable to move until we open this door. That also means . . . ,” he started but stopped for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.

“What does it mean?” Klaybear asked.

“What?” Thal said, startled. “Sorry, my mind wandered off. We are about to open the door and let Tevvy go do his job.”

“And you were wondering what would happen,” Tevvy noted, “when we open this door, and then we got sidetracked into a highly theoretical discussion about time and the sword that makes no sense to me.”

“Never mind,” Thal said, “but it was you who asked the question that sidetracked our conversation.”

“Let’s just open the door and get on with it!” Tevvy exclaimed.

“All right,” Thal said, “brace yourselves.” Thal placed his right hand into the indentation to open the door. Again, Klaybear perceived a subliminal flash of violet light, then the door slid open. The cavern outside the door shook and bucked, but the chamber where they stood did not move.

“Interesting,” Thal said simply, as they watched the cavern floor heave and shake, shards of stone falling to the floor. The motion calmed, then stopped, while the dust settled more slowly. Thal raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t try to explain,” Tevvy said before Thal could speak, “I wouldn’t understand the explanation anyway.” He looked at them for a moment before speaking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He turned and walked slowly up the ramp and disappeared from view.

Thal and Klaybear turned and moved back to the main chamber. “What an amazing room,” Thal whispered.

“Its creation?” Klaybear asked, “or its contents?”

“Both,” Thal replied, moving toward a pedestal near the door. “Take a look at this,” he said after a moment. “It is the original.”

“Original what?” Klaybear asked, now joining him and looking down.

“The original prophecy,” he whispered, “and it was corrected by Shigmar,” he said, pointing, “‘Darkness and evil surround them, light guides them, rumor precedes them, destruction and disturbance follow them; choose to aid them to suffer, choose to oppose them to die,’ and notice here, at the beginning, the word is dhund, meaning ‘they will end’ the kingdom of Gar.”

“We should copy this,” Klaybear said.

“Not copy,” Thal said, “make a rubbing. If we copy it, others could make the claim that Ghelvon did: that we altered it to hide our true intentions, since they fear us.” He took a bit of charcoal from one of his pouches, and pulled a blank piece of parchment out of his robe. “Help me hold this in place over the stone.”

Gar howled; flames exploded from his body as he reached out to grab the two who fled. The room around him caught fire and started to burn; he took no notice, as he had to knit the pattern of his own mind back together before it unraveled. He knew instantly who had done it; he also knew precisely where they were. He started to open a doorway into the space, but he could not. For some reason, he could not access the space, and instantly, he knew why. Rage filled him again, exploded as flames from his body, blowing out the side of the room and inn. He howled, and the ground shook, making the patrons of the inn who were trying to flee, and all those in Shigmar, to reel about drunkenly. He recognized the “curse” that sent him into the underworld thwarting his desire for vengeance, hedging him up from all sides. He howled a third time, and the inn, although made of stone, burned around him, turning in seconds to ash, burning anyone still in the inn or nearby out of existence. As the ash collapsed, he fled in the only direction he could go, the “curse” forcing him, chasing him, tormenting him into madness, back into his prison deep underground, back to Kolu. The few of his servants who entered his hall, especially those who did not notice his blazing anger, burned to ash in the face of his fury; the hall melted and rained fire from above, gobs of liquid, superheated stone crashing into the floor, filling the floor with holes, a floor that bucked and heaved under his feet.

After a time, his anger cooled, his sense returned, and he reached out to re-establish the compulsion set on two of the chosen, but he could not reach them; he could see them, but something prevented him from touching either of them. One was sleeping, watched over by her mate; the other moved through the sewers of Shigmar, nearing some of his servants. He tried to reach the other chosen, but they were each as inaccessible as the two he had previously controlled. His anger flamed again, recognizing why he could not touch any of them. His servants, from the least to those nearest to him fled to the farthest reaches of Kolu, knowing that the tantrums would continue for days.

When his anger cooled again, and his sense returned again, he reached out again, but not to any of the chosen, rather to one of his servants, stationed in Shigmar, working to bring another of his plans into motion. He could still thwart them; he could still act. He sent a warning to his servant that the enemy was watching, ordering him to act sooner than they had planned. He could still salvage his plans from the wreck the chosen had made of them; still destroy one of them and break out of his prison when all of creation crumbled again into chaos.

THE END of Chosen of the One. The story continues in The Staff of Shigmar: Book 2 of The Redemption. We hope you have enjoyed this first book in The Redemption series! Get it in ebook form from Smashwords; if you prefer print, purchase your copy using the link provided. We also add that the second book, listed above, is also free from Smashwords! Good reading!