A Chosen Life

by K. A. Parkinson

  He pulled the anger inside and buried it deep until the heat was completely gone and the facade he’d spent years creating fell over him. He could be with these two the same way he was with every other person he knew—aside from the two he truly cared about. He would treat them the same as the faceless people he went to school with, bagged groceries for, or walked past on the street. They meant nothing to him and he would control his anger by remembering that. They were merely a means to an end.

  He ducked his head and turned back into the headlights, weak but determined.

  o o o

  “ . . . other than the fact that it smells like dog fart under here we should be good until we reach the Jeep.” Macy climbed out from under the hood to see Tolen standing beside Bastian, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face, but no longer angry. He looked so calm it was creepy, as if some other dude had taken his place. His eyes were guarded, but something still festered below the surface. He met her eyes briefly but not long enough for her to figure out what he was hiding. She shrugged. Whether the kid liked it or not, Bastian would know whatever he was thinking. She jumped off the bumper and Bastian closed and latched the hood.

  “We have about another forty miles to the Jeep. You are certain we can make it?” Bastian asked.

  Macy nodded. “As long as you keep it below sixty and watch the temp. He boiled all the water out of the motor, and there’s a tiny crack in the block, but the water I added should get us there.”

  Tolen walked away and climbed in the cab. Macy tipped her head toward him. “Is he under control?”

  Bastian whispered. “For now. Do not goad him Macy, I mean it. He is dangerous. Far more dangerous than even he realizes.”

  She wiped her hands on a rag from her back pocket. “I’ll be good.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if he pushes me like that again I can’t make any guarantees.”

  Bastian shook his head and walked her to the passenger door. He waited until she was situated beside Tolen, as far away as the seat would allow, before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

  Macy turned her head toward the window and pushed her headphones into her ears.

  o o o

  The sun rose too bright and cheery for Tolen as he stared out the window at the passing yellow lines of the highway. They reminded him of a swarm of angry bees: black, yellow, black, yellow, humming beneath the worn tires of the rusty Jeep they were now driving.

  Dumping the conspicuous BLM truck had been their only stop in the last four hours. They’d left it on the side of the road near a storage unit where the Jeep happened to be hidden. Macy spent ten minutes under the hood and with two words from Bastian, “Get in,” they were off again, without any explanations.

  Tolen assumed the Watcher must have vehicles like this stashed all over the place.

  Bastian had offered him some strange looking food for breakfast, but Tolen couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. He could feel the urgency behind their movements, the speed at which they drove, and the overall tension that surrounded them, but he’d fallen into his own personal hell and couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he knew he should.

  The yellow lines seemed to be screaming their names. Mom. Dane. Mom. Dane. His last words to his mother had been in anger and he’d never told Dane how much he meant to him, how grateful he was for his friendship. He’d taken them both for granted, and he hated himself for it. He felt helpless, stupid, weak, angry, and ashamed all at the same time. He caught himself watching the road signs and counting the miles as they made their way toward California. His life was in the hands of these strangers for now, but once they reached the Binithan things would change. He’d make sure of it.

  His throat tightened and his eyes burned.

  “There is no shame in showing emotion.” Bastian whispered from the driver’s seat. “Emotion separates us from the Dark.”

  Tolen glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder at Macy, who thankfully still slept sprawled out in the backseat of the Jeep, before turning back to glare out the windshield. The Watcher reading his thoughts was annoying.

  “Not read. It is the tenor, or the emotion behind the thought I sense. Thoughts are not words on a page. I can feel you blaming yourself. I feel your wrath and resentment toward me. You have every right to be angry with me. As your Watcher, I must do what is necessary to protect you, no matter the cost. I do not ask for, nor expect, your forgiveness. But blaming yourself serves no purpose and will not help.”

  Tolen clenched his hands in his lap, refusing to retort. Calm and aloof. This man meant nothing.

  Bastian’s eyes never left the road. Either he really was leaving Tolen’s mind alone, or he was at least pretending to. He continued his one-sided conversation as if Tolen were actually interested. “It is not your fault you lose consciousness in sensitive situations. Your body feels something, and your life force reacts with your gifts. Because you have not been taught to use the power you feel, I believe that when you are particularly emotional in one form or another, you go into sensory overload. You have subconsciously figured out how to channel your anger to your most powerful gifts, which is why the trees will react and you cannot always hold back the flame, but your mind has no idea how to battle overwhelming fear or remorse. It goes into protection mode and shuts down.”

  “My most powerful gifts?” His voice was scratchy, but calm. He could do this.

  The Watcher nodded. “Your first birthright is that of the Honitahai, the nature speakers. This is why it is so easy for you to hear the trees and speak to them. The gift of the Kunamin, the fire-wielders, is a very emotionally driven gift. Right now, because you have not been trained in your other gifts, this is your second strongest.”

  “What do you mean other gifts?” Tolen cast a swift look at Bastian, a sick knot forming in his stomach.

  Bastian glanced over and his eyes were dilating again. Tolen’s blue eye burned and he looked away. “What all can you do Tolen?”

  Tolen shifted in his seat and stared out the window. He didn’t want to tell this man any more about himself, not only because he didn’t like him, but he didn’t really know how. He’d always had to keep everything a secret. With time he’d even stopped telling his mother when he discovered something else he could do. But if he was going to follow through on his plan, then he needed to know, he needed to understand this creature, this Being that he was. His head flooded with questions and his hatred toward this man couldn’t overrule his need for answers.

  “I’ve never really tried to find out everything I can do. Sometimes things just happen. I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t feel something in the trees and that they understood me. I was six when I first created fire. I didn’t mean to. The neighbor kids were really mean to me. One day I just lost it and lit their house on fire.” He didn’t look at Bastian to see what the man thought of this confession. Instead he went on, feeling for the first time a strange sense of relief letting it all out. “I am stronger than most people, and I can run really fast when my emotions are high—angry or even happy. Sometimes I feel things when I’m sitting on the ground, or in the wind. Almost as if they are trying to communicate with me, but I don’t know how . . . ” He trailed off and felt his face redden.

  “Do not be embarrassed Tolen. You are not incorrect.” He took a deep breath and scanned the horizon. “The histories and mysteries of the Hidden are many and they take a lifetime of lessons to learn, and even then I do not think one ever truly understands all until they pass to the other side and can view things from a grander perspective. I do not have time to tell you all the mysteries of the Hidden, but I think I can give you enough to help you understand, at least to a degree.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

  Tolen waited for him to continue, sensing the Watcher’s discomfort only made him more curious.

  “In the beginning, when this world was created, eight g
reat Beings infused their gifts into the Balance. Honitahai, the nature speaker; Kunamin, the fire-wielder; Dicernan, the unseen; Lóklana, the light caller; Animashta, the animal listener; Arwah, the wind shifter; Leenwa, the water caller; and Télora, the earth mover. Because of who you are, you have been given the gift of each of these great Beings. With time you will learn how to speak to the earth, the wind, light, animals, the water, and use all your other gifts in the right way, at the right time, and for the right reasons.”

  Bastian took a deep breath. “You have also been born with a special gift that is yours alone. It is not elemental or physical. This is a gift of the heart. A gift of true empathy. There are some, such as the Spheres, that can use their gifts to sense the character of a person, but a gift of true and complete empathy is incredibly rare. You can sense the feelings of those around you, correct?”

  Tolen nodded slowly. “My mother always said I was born with a thoughtful heart.” A lump rose in his throat.

  “This ability is one of your greatest gifts Tolen. It will guide you better than any compass, better than any map, better than any piece of advice or training you receive. I know that right now you cannot forgive me for what happened to Dane and your mother. As I said I do not expect you to, and I will never ask it of you. What I will ask however, is that you believe your thoughtful heart when it tells you I can be trusted and Macy can be trusted. Listen to it as you train, learn, and use it whenever it is time to make a hard decision and anger wants to overrule your good instincts.”

  The lump swelled in Tolen’s throat and he didn’t know how to respond. The horrible guilt he felt for his role in Dane and his mother’s disappearance made it hard for him to listen to his heart when he wanted so badly to act. To seek vengeance against those who hurt his best friend and tore apart his family. But in the Watcher’s words he felt the truth. His mother had always given him the same advice, Follow your heart, Tolen. Whenever you aren’t sure what to do, trust your thoughtful heart. It will not lead you astray.

  He kept his eyes out the window. “So Dane was a Télora then?”

  Bastian nodded. “And Macy is a Kunamin.”

  “What else can they do?”

  Bastian took a while to answer and Tolen looked over to see a tiny bead of sweat on his upper lip. “Not all of our kind can do all eight gifts.”

  Tolen’s eyes narrowed. The Watcher was hiding something. As much as Tolen wanted to know what it was, he had learned enough from his mother to know when an adult didn’t want to tell you something, no amount of prying would get it out of them. He switched gears to another topic that plagued him. “What did you mean when you said I was letting my subconscious take over?”

  Bastian’s eyes began dilating rapidly. Tolen rubbed his eye when it burned again.

  “You were in a Dreamer’s state.” Bastian took a measured breath. “There are a group of individuals within the Hidden called the Dreamers. They have an unusual gift—the ability to use their subconscious in battle.”

  “What? How is that even possible?”

  “There is a place where you go in your mind when you pass out, is there not?”

  Tolen shifted in his seat. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Is it warm and bright? You feel safe and comfortable?”

  Tolen nodded once but kept his eyes on the road.

  “You have gone there when you are awake as well, have you not?”

  He was reminded of his recent fight with Jeff. “Yeah, I have. But when I’m awake and I go there on purpose, I can still sense what is going on around me. I can watch it as if I am outside my body. It wasn’t like that in the canyon.”

  Bastian nodded. “In the canyon your mind knew of this place and took you there to protect itself. A reaction based on learned behavior.”

  “But what is it? Where do I go?”

  “To better understand, think of conscious and subconscious as two separate beings occupying the same space. Each has a job to do, but they cannot get in one another’s way. So when the conscious must work, guiding the body through the avenues of cognizant thought and action, like tying your shoes, the subconscious is locked away. When the body must rest the conscious is locked away, while the subconscious is let out to travel the deeper regions of the mind, resolving problems, healing, dreaming. Do you understand?”

  As convoluted as it sounded, it actually did make sense. “You can’t tie your shoes while you’re asleep and you can’t dream while you’re awake?”

  “Precisely. The Dreamers’ minds do not abide by the same rules. They can access either place, awake or asleep. Both conscious and subconscious can work at the same time, and the Dreamers are trained how to control each, to lock them away until they are needed in battle.”

  Tolen considered the Watcher. “What do you mean, in battle?”

  “Remember the feeling you had when you left the truck and I tried to stop you, the voice that came from your mouth?”

  Tolen swallowed, “Yeah. It was horrible, and powerful. I felt like I had no control . . . That was my subconscious mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “I felt so strong . . . ” It had been both frightening and enthralling, the power that had surged through him.

  “In our dreams, we are not limited by logic. We can be super heroes. Because you are of the Hidden race, you have the ability to enhance your natural abilities—like running, hearing, and sight—but logic, the conscious mind, stops us from going too far.”

  Tolen regarded his reflection in the side window. What was he? “The Dreamers can become what they dream?”

  “They can become as powerful as what they dream.” Bastian corrected. “They cannot change their appearance.”

  “It took over. I didn’t even know it was happening.” He glanced at his hands. “How do I keep it from happening again?” No matter how fascinating the power had been, he did not like the way it had controlled him.

  “Your conscious mind is naturally stronger than your subconscious. Now that you understand this ability, it will be easier to control it. Knowledge has already made your mind stronger. The next time you feel overwhelmed, you will stop yourself from going to the realm of the subconscious. It will be easier than you think.” He paused and gave Tolen a searching look.

  “As soon as we reach the Binithan, I will begin your training. The more you learn of your gifts, and your own strength, the less your body and mind will control you.”

  Tolen clenched his hands on the seat beneath him. Learning more about how to control his strange abilities was something he’d wanted forever, but could he handle being taught by a man he didn’t like? Couldn’t he have the Doogar teach him instead?

  He peeked at the hard planes of Bastian’s face—a man who did not look much older than himself. Bastian said he was Tolen’s Watcher. Would he ever be out of his life? Did he even have a choice?

  Bastian glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Macy?”

  Tolen looked in the back to see her watching him with wide eyes.

  He felt warmth crawl up his face. How long had she been awake? How much had she overheard?

  “The sun is fully up.” Bastian interrupted Tolen’s musing. “The armies of the Dark have stopped their chase for now. I can see that our path will be mostly clear for the next hundred miles or so. Can you drive for a few hours while I regenerate?”

  Macy nodded and Bastian pulled off the highway at a rest stop.

  Bastian said it casually, but one word made Tolen’s stomach clench.

  Mostly . . . Their path would be mostly clear, not completely.

  The angry bees were back and his head buzzed painfully.

  The nightmare wasn’t even close to over.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stories

  Macy glanced in the rearview mirror at Bastian. He was restless—his legs kept twitching in his sleep.


  It didn’t help the state of her nerves.

  Bastian was trying to keep the seriousness of their situation quiet so the kid wouldn’t freak out, but she knew . . . Daylight or not, the Dark continued to move. Maybe not their armies, but servants were moving. It was subtle, but there. Every town they passed through she felt them stir, almost as if the presence of the Ninth awakened them.

  Whether Bastian wanted to admit it or not, she’d been right. Tolen’s life force was like a beacon, lighting the way for the Dark to follow.

  She’d also become more sensitive to the specific vibes of the Shadows in the last few days. Their eerie, distant cold kept her Kuna tingling. She could feel their power gathering somewhere up ahead. Bastian hadn’t mentioned this yet, and she knew why. She struggled enough with their predicament and he knew she’d put up a fight when he admitted that they were headed toward the Shadows, instead of running from them.

  Two days ago, he would have been right. She would have taken off on her own if it meant she didn’t have to deal with the Ninth and all the trouble that came with him. She’d loathed Tolen before she’d ever set eyes on him. It was childish, yes, but how she’d felt.

  Now?

  Watching him lose his mother and best friend had erased the irrational hatred she felt toward him and forced her to admit that she didn’t know him well enough to hate him.

  The truth? She let her breath out in irritation.

  She envied him. And . . . she was afraid of him.

  He had so much that she’d wished for; a home life with a mother who, even though she happened to be a little on the crazy side, adored him and was there for him every day. His father might be locked in the Shadow Prison, but at least he was alive and there was the chance he could survive. Yes, it was a horribly slim chance, but Tolen could be re-united with him one day. He had Dane, a really good friend, who’d been willing to die for him. He’d attended real school. He’d lived the human life Macy had been denied.