A Chosen Life

by K. A. Parkinson

  Tolen’s only thought was to get to Macy. Black streaks flew beside him as he blew through the army of Raksasha battling with Bastian. He felt the heat build in his palms as he had many times before, but this time he realized what was coming and held his hands in front of him. Great bursts of fire shot from his palms toward the Raksasha, melting them where they stood, burning him a direct path to the black tree.

  Five more Phantom trees had moved in to fight the red trees and blocked his path to Macy. The rage that surged through him fed the heat to boiling point, his entire body felt as if it were on fire. He slid to a stop and held his hands in front of him, as if grasping an invisible beach ball, but he could feel the heat there, even if he could not see it. It built stronger and stronger.

  The black branches lowered to grab him, “Mi’no ha!” The words burst form his mouth as he threw the ball of heat. His thoughts focused on the black trees nearest, the ball surged forward, split into five, and collided with the Phantoms.

  A flash of brightest orange and the Phantoms dissolved to ash. The sixth tree, still clutching Macy, its side burning from her fireball, was fifty feet in front of him, swinging angrily. Its roots twisted and curled away from him as if trying to run away. He rushed forward and a golden branch appeared beside him. He ran up it without thinking and launched himself forward. More red and gold branches whipped towards him, creating a path as he flew through the air. He jumped from limb to limb until he was on the Phantom tree. Acting on instinct, he drew his fist back and slammed it into the bark as hard as he could.

  The wood cracked beneath his fist. His knuckles shattered as the strength of the punch carried his entire arm to the heart of the tree.

  Something snake-like and ice-cold twisted around his arm. As it furled along his skin, a weaker version of the Shadows’ power pushed against his heart and mind. Macy’s face flashed across his vision again and he pulled his arm back, dragging the Phantom through the heart of the tree. It fought against him, tugging backward and squeezing tighter around his arm. Pain seared through Tolen’s broken hand, splinters from the tree lodged into his skin, but still he pulled harder and harder until his arm broke free of the tree.

  A familiar word rushed into his mind, one he couldn’t remember ever learning, but knew now was the moment to use it. “Radi’non!” He shouted, and a blinding flash of light filled the air in front of him. As soon as the light touched the coiling black form of the Phantom, it screeched in agony, dissipated into a thin mist, and blew away in the wind.

  The tree changed from swirling energy to a deadened gray-brown and became completely still, aside from the remainder of Macy’s fire that continued to burn through the dead wood.

  Macy? Where was she?

  Horror coursed through him.

  Tolen, I have her. Ardia’s voice was worried.

  Tolen looked over to see Ardia’s life force glowing from one of the red and gold trees. Macy lay cradled in one of her lower branches. Momentary relief coursed through him, and he looked around for the Watcher, expecting him to be tending to her injuries.

  But Bastian still fought the Raksasha.

  Save him. Tolen called, hoping the other trees could still hear him. They did, and swarmed over the Raksasha.

  Bastian broke free of the throng and ran over. Tolen climbed down the side of the tree not yet engulfed in flames and dropped to the ground. His hand throbbed and blood ran steadily down his fingers, but he only had eyes for Macy’s limp and broken body.

  Ardia lowered Macy into Bastian’s waiting arms.

  Ardia, is she . . . ? Tolen swallowed a lump in his throat.

  She is alive, Tolen. But hurt badly. You must hurry. The Shadows know where you are. They are sending an army to keep you busy until they can reach you. If you are stalled again they will reach you before you make it.

  “Bastian, we need to go.”

  Bastian ran his fingers down Macy’s cheek and wiped at a trickle of blood running from her lip down her chin. “I cannot run with her. She will die from the pain. She is broken in so many places. Macy, I am so sorry. I have failed you.” He turned tear-filled eyes on Tolen. “Heal her . . . Please.”

  “What?”

  “Heal her. You have the ability. Please.”

  Guilt washed over Tolen. “I don’t know how!”

  “You just saved us without knowing how. Focus, ask your life force to heal her.”

  Tolen, you must hurry!

  “Please. I beg you. The word is lon’adras. Please, Tolen, just say it, please!” Bastian’s voice broke and tears leaked from the corners of both eyes.

  Tolen ran a hand over his face and tried to imagine what he needed to do. Why had he never asked his mother how she did it? He took a deep breath and lifted his unbroken hand to Macy’s face. He pictured it not the way it was now but when it was filled with one of her sarcastic smiles, her green eyes dancing. Please, please let this work.

  “Lon’adras.” He whispered and the feeling of fire in his veins returned and surged toward his fingertips. He closed his eyes and his hands seemed to move of their own accord; tracing the contours of Macy’s face, burning hotter where the injuries were the worst. They trailed along her side and he cringed as the broken bones shifted back into their proper place. She moaned softly and Tolen opened his eyes.

  “I think that’s the best I can do.”

  Bastian nodded with gratitude, his face filled with pain. “Which way?”

  Tolen pointed. “Ardia says there—through the Catacombs. The Raksasha are everywhere.” He glanced at Macy. “Follow me.” He turned and started to run. “Mig’ what?” He called back to Bastian.

  “Mig’nata.”

  “Mig’nata!” Strength surged through Tolen’s body and he concentrated on pushing it to his legs. He felt the increase of power flow through his muscles and his speed increased until everything around him became a blur. Bastian met him stride for stride, with Macy in his arms. The crashing sounds of the advancing Phantoms and Raksasha grew louder and louder behind them.

  A sick wave of fear washed over Tolen and he stumbled. He glanced up—the Shadows were nearly over them.

  “Tolen, the spear! Use it now!” Bastian pulled his own spear from his pocket, which grew to three feet in his hand. White light covered him and Macy and, amazingly, his speed increased. Tolen un-wrapped the spear. As it grew in his hands, he instantly felt the despair pushed away, but also felt the drain of the spear’s power. He pushed his legs as fast as they would go. Brush, trees, and other living things moved from their path as he led the way to where Ardia was waiting.

  Brilliant gold light streamed from the entrance to the Catacombs. Raksasha screamed and howled as Tolen, followed closely by Bastian and Macy, dashed inside its protection.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The

  Binithan

  The light inside the Binithan seemed to come from the walls themselves. They pulsated with the same kind of energy Tolen could feel from the trees. The Binithan, though made of volcanic rock, had a life force.

  It was alive.

  The Raksasha shrieked right outside the entrance. Tolen could see their shadows rushing closer. “Bastian?”

  Before Bastian could reply, an opening appeared behind them in the cave wall, spilling more light into the cavern. They charged inside and behind them, the rock began to reform into solid wall.

  Suddenly a horde of black arms reached through the gap, clawing at the stone, but it was closing too fast, severing several of the Raksashas’ arms. Their shrieks resonated through the rock.

  The walls shook, pebbles rained down on their heads, and an unearthly howl echoed beyond the sealed door. Waves of terror washed over Tolen. The dread and horror wrapped itself like a living thing around his heart and he sank to his knees. The spear in his hand vibrated and split in two. He dropped the pieces to the ground beside him and wait
ed for death to come.

  “Unastrah . . . Con . . . Diadras.” Bastian’s deep voice seemed to move through the walls, forming a barrier between them and the force outside.

  The cold dread in Tolen’s heart disappeared. “What did you just do?” He asked between deep breaths.

  “I told the Dark it is not welcome here. The Binithan did the rest.” Bastian gently lowered Macy to the floor of the cave. She was still unconscious. The golden light showed her injuries better than the dismal gray outside. Tolen felt horrible. It didn’t look as if his healing efforts had done much.

  “You did very well, Tolen. She will be all right. The Doogar will be here soon, they will look after her.” Bastian slid down the wall and sat on the floor beside Macy. He looked exhausted. The blood from his head wound was dried on his face and congealed in his long hair. The black blood of the Raksasha covered his clothes. Deep cuts up and down his arms oozed blood and what looked like yellow pus. The skin beneath the pus twitched slightly.

  “Is that—”

  “Poison?” Bastian looked down at his arms. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to—”

  “Die? No. Raksasha poison is slow. Its purpose is mainly to cause enough pain to incapacitate their prey. I am fine, Tolen. Do not worry about me.” He glanced at Macy then nodded toward Tolen’s hand.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  Tolen looked at his broken hand and the scratches on his arm—splinters stuck out of his skin here and there. Huh, I forgot all about it.

  Bastian nodded and closed his eyes. “The pain will catch up to you later, when your adrenaline wears off. Do not be surprised if you sleep straight through the next several hours or even days. That was quite a show of power out there.”

  Tolen slid down beside Bastian but averted his eyes from Macy, because when he did look at her, his pulse raced and the overpowering urge to go back out and kill every creature that had caused her harm nearly overwhelmed his common sense. “What do we do now?”

  “The Doogar know we are here. They will come. We will wait.” Bastian’s head dropped to his chest and he was silent except for his deep breathing.

  Tolen looked at the poison on the Watcher’s arms and hoped he’d been telling the truth. His eyes followed the scratches up to the Watcher’s face. Even in sleep the worry lines between his eyes and in his forehead were prevalent, making him look older. This huge man cared deeply for Macy, like a father for his child. He had felt Bastian’s anguish as he’d looked at Macy’s broken body. He felt it as if it were his own as Bastian had begged him to heal her. Could he honestly hate this man who could love so deeply? Did he honestly believe that Bastian had left his mother and Dane behind out of selfish cruelty?

  Tolen remembered what Bastian had told him. As your Watcher, I must do what is necessary to protect you, no matter the cost.

  He turned away, wrapped his arms around his knees, and stared down the narrow passageway into the cave, unwilling to think about it anymore. He was not ready to forgive Bastian, no matter what he’d felt or witnessed. Maybe he couldn’t hate him, but he doubted he would ever forgive him. He still believed that this giant of a man could have found a way to save Dane and his mother if he’d really wanted to.

  The next thing he knew he was being poked awake with a long, knobby stick.

  He looked up to see a very old man, who could only be three-feet tall at most. His small stature reminded him painfully of Dane. A Doogar?

  “Up. Get up, boy.” The old man had a squeaky voice and his thousand tiny wrinkles quivered as he spoke. His bushy eyebrows nearly covered his huge black eyes, and his white hair and beard trailed to the ground. He wore a strange floor-length green tunic over a thick brown woven pantsuit, with tall black boots that hit just beneath his knees. A wide belt filled with an array of strange objects peeked from beneath his tangle of beard.

  The old man poked Tolen again. “Come on boy—to the Infirmary. Hander say nasty business you’s up to, yes. Very nasty indeed.” He shook his hairy head side to side. “Tis’ dark times, these. Dark times indeed.”

  Tolen stood up and groaned. “Who is Hander?”

  The old man rapped him on the leg with his stick. “I is Hander, dummy.”

  “Sorry.” Pain rippled across Tolen’s entire body. His arm felt as if he’d shoved it into a bonfire and his legs felt like he’d run a hundred miles. “I’m Tolen.” He held out his good hand.

  “I already knows who you are.” Hander clicked his tongue. “Come on.” He started forward and Tolen looked ahead to see Bastian stumbling along carrying Macy. Six more Doogar, ranging in age, walked beside him, their arms up as if ready to catch them if Bastian collapsed.

  Tolen trudged slowly behind the assembly, trying to ignore the pain. The old Doogar walked beside him, occasionally looking up with concern.

  “You are all right, yes?” He asked every few minutes.

  Tolen answered verbally the first several times, but as the pain intensified, he switched to quick nods. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Doogar led them through a doorway into a circular room lined with tiny beds, ornately carved end tables, and dressers. The golden light inside was brighter, like daylight. Tolen squinted as he followed them inside.

  Beautiful carvings of every mythical creature imaginable adorned the walls and worked up and across a ceiling that rose barely a foot above his head.

  Someone tugged on his arm and he looked down to see a tiny woman in a long emerald dress with wavy floor-length hair the color of burnished copper. “You are very big, ya.” Her black eyes twinkled when she smiled up at him. “No beds to fit you here, no.” She held onto his good hand and led him toward the other side of the room. Hander stayed with Bastian. “Come this way. I am Helga. I will see you right, ya.”

  Macy was small enough to fit on the Doogar’s tiny beds and they were arranging blankets and pillows on the floor beside her for Bastian. He gave Tolen a reassuring nod before layers of gauzy curtains were drawn around Macy’s bed, hiding them from sight.

  The woman led Tolen to the opposite side where they had pushed together three of their small beds. “This will be alright, ya?” She pulled Tolen forward and pushed on his knees to get him to sit on the bed. When he did, she shoved her tiny hands on his chest. “You will lie down, ya. We will fix you up.” Two more women in similar deep green dresses came over, walked around him in circles, looking him up and down.

  “You will take this, ya?” Helga held out a small, steaming cup. “It will help you sleep. So you will feel no pain, ya.” She waited patiently for Tolen to swallow the bitter liquid—which he barely managed to do without gagging—and then smiled as his eyelids began to droop.

  His last thought was a shiver of dread at the idea of what would have happened had they not reached the door in time, if they had been left there. Left, like his mother and Dane. Shimmers of warmth from the drink fought the pangs of grief spreading through his body, dulling the pain, and slowing his thoughts until finally he drifted into a welcome, dreamless slumber.

  o o o

  Bastian twisted the wooden cup in his hands. The Doogar Elders sat at the far end of the table whispering and occasionally sending him a covert glance or frown.

  He sipped the root tea and looked over the bandages on his arms as he waited. The little Doogar Healers had cleaned most of the Raksasha poison from his wounds—he felt hardly any pain.

  He tapped his thumb on the side of the mug. It would not do well to demand anything from the Doogar, but it was very hard to maintain a calm facade with so much at stake.

  Tolen and Macy had slept soundly for the last twelve hours, and the Doogar Elders had been in council nearly the entire time. An hour ago, they had finally invited Bastian to join them. He hoped they had decided to help. The Doogar with their many caves beneath the earth would be a great asset.

  In that hour, Bastion
had explained recent events, informing them that though it was not yet time for him to know it, Tolen truly was the Ninth. As he finished, the Elder’s looked at him blankly before Hander quietly spoke.

  “We’s will help you. Our Sphere will be shielding the boy until the girl heals. You’s must teach him to shield himself. Then we will lead you to the camp. The boy is too powerful to be staying here long term. It is not the safest idea, but the Dark makes nothing safe right now.”

  Bastian lowered his head. “I am truly grateful for your sacrifice. While Tolen is here, I was hoping you could help me train him. He has much to learn and your people are very skilled. For far too long he has thought of his gifts as a curse and has sought to subdue them. When he feels an overwhelming emotion, his gifts burst free and he has no idea how to control them. Every minute his gifts grow in strength. I do not want to waste a single moment that he could be taught.”

  The elders shared a long look before Hander looked back to Bastian with a grave nod. “This request is justified. Helping the Ninth we help us all.”

  “I am forever indebted.” He paused “I have one final favor to ask, even though it is not fair of me, since you have already promised so much.”

  Hander’s bushy eyebrows rose and several of the other elders started shaking their heads at his nerve. Bastian plowed forward, knowing he had no choice. The hazy future concerned him.

  Bastian rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward. “This is a bit more complicated. For centuries, the Dark has been mostly quiet, but for the last several years, I have watched the signs, and felt the growth of evil shift from slow to alarmingly fast. Too fast. In the last ten years alone we have seen the Shadows released twice, crow patrols have increased, and Raksasha and other vile creatures’ numbers have swelled, keeping the Chosen and their Watchers too busy to notice . . . ”

  “Notice what?”

  Bastian ran a hand over his eyes. “The Guardians put my ward and me on a special reconnaissance mission. We were to stalk a group of Kreydawn in the deserts of Nevada. They were mining something, but whatever it was, they were keeping it well hidden. Disguising their actions. Before we were able to discover what they were doing, Tolen’s shard arrived, the Balance restored me, and we left to find him. I have not been able to get word to my contact with the Guardians—”