Alexander Reisig

The Godschosen by Alexander Reisig

Ival: god of life, peace, righteousness, and law Valas: god of death, the four hells, and temptation Eaos: god of pain, suffering, bad luck, and curses Idoine: goddess of souls, direction, different species, and wisdom Aarhus: god of fire, war, and anger Adera: goddess of the sea, storms, and wind Monet: goddess of land, nature, and hunt Barala: goddess of the moon, night, and magic Quetexel: god of trickery, questions, education, madness, and stupidity Ventak: god of the forge, iron, and craftsmen

Prelude

Wandrown Harkepur had grown up an orphan, with no family, no money, just himself. The Archmage Holdwin raised him in the village of Cottonbranch. Holdwin has told him stories of heroes, dragons, monsters, and magic. However, one story was never told to Wandrown; who were his parents? In Wandrown’s sixteen years of life, he never understood who his parents were and what had happened to them. Finally, however, Holdwin has approached Wandrown and has told him to pack his essentials and scraped together what gold he had left. Wandrown now stands outside of the local blacksmith to purchase the necessary equipment for the journey.

Chapter 1: A Mysterious Task

Wandrown studied his gold pouch, counting each piece. Finally, he sighed; Holdwin had become quite distant and quiet.

It had become alarming, but Wandrown trusted Master Holdwin’s wisdom. Wandrown shook his head, “save your, petty thoughts for later.” he told himself. He grabbed hold of the handle of the blacksmith’s door and entered. He was met with a gust of hot air. His untidy blond hair was swept backward, and he began coughing. Wandrown was a tall youth and somewhat muscular, with a pair of light blue eyes, the mark of a North Lovanan, where he’d hailed from as a child.

The blacksmith, Storg, laughed, “Ah ha ha, ye never get used to that, do ya boy?” Wandrown chuckled, and Storg placed his hammer on

his anvil, “What can I do for ya?” Wandrown smiled. “Master Holdwin wants me to purchase a few things for a journey; he says you make the best weapons around here.” Storg smiled and clapped his huge hands together, “Ah, good lad, Master Holdwins, finally sendin’ ya off?” Wandrown nodded. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t any idea what the task is.” Storg laughed again. “Well then, lad, you’ll be needin’ a sword then.” Storg stepped back, studying Wandrown. “Hm. Your rather tall for your age.” Storg snapped his fingers, “I know just the blade.” He quickly shuffled toward a table and picked up a sword. The blade reflected in the fire. Wandrown smiled. “Master Holdwin was right! How much gold do I owe you?” Storg held out the sword with a grin “Anything for master Holdwin is always free.” Wandrown smiled and took the blade. It felt light yet powerful. Storg folded his arms, “Blades sharp as a dragon’s scale, she’ll cut down anything that stands in yer path.” Wandrown smiled. “Thank you, Storg; I shall tell Master Holdwin of this.” Storg smiled and tossed Wandrown a scabbard hanging off the wall, “You’ll need this too.” Wandrown caught it and waved as he left the forge. Wandrown began to tie the scabbard around his waist when he heard a voice, “I’m sorry, child, but could I trouble you for one moment?” Wandrown turned to see an old man with a crutch, “Good morning Torrance.” he said, smiling. Torrance was one of the millers in Cotton Branch; he always helped keep the town’s grain supply full. Torrance smiled, “Thank you, child; I have a request for you to take to Master Holdwin; there was a book that my wife, Mertle, enjoys. I would ask you to retrieve it and bring it to my house. I would do it myself, but Mertle and I must bring our crop ere the guard come for us.” Wandrown nodded, “Of course, I’ll ask Master Holdwin. Torrance nodded, “gods bless you, child.” he turned and limped away.

Wandrown turned to see a girl, an elf. She was carrying some rolls of parchment over her shoulder. He smiled, recognizing her, “Morning, Ester!” he said. Ester turned and smiled back. She set down the parchment and started toward Wandrown. Her eyes went to the sword in his hand, “Since when did you get a sword?” she asked, surprised. Wandrown laughed “master Holdwin wants me for a task.” Ester looked up at Wandrown; a tone of concern entered her voice. “What’s the task?” Wandrown sheathed the sword, “I’m not sure Master Holdwin has been rather secretive recently.” Ester’s expression fell, “Well, be careful. I’ve heard from the guards; that bandits have recently begun attacking people, with no reason.” Wandrown opened his mouth to respond when a loud voice bellowed out. “Oi!” Wandrowns eyes focused turned to see 52

a man clad in shining armor. “What do you think yer, doin? Master Holdwin is looking for ya!” Wandrown stammered, “S-sorry, Captian Lendon.” Lendon folded his arms, his armor creaking. “Sorry doesn’t bring back the time ya wasted, kid!” Wandrown nodded silently. Lendon rolled his eyes and turned to Ester, “Ester, I told you to hurry up with the parchment! The Commander needs it, now hurry up!” Ester sighed, “Yes, Captian.” She picked up the parchment and started off, as she was leaving, she smiled at Wandorwn. Wandrown nodded back at her and turned to face Lendon. “Master Holdwin has instructed me to find ya. He’s in the library.” Lendon turned his head to Wandrown, followed Lendon, “Has master Holdwin told you what my mission is to be?” Wandrown asked, hoping for some solace from the captain. Lendon shook his head. “Trust me, boy, if I knew, then everyone would know, though come to think of it, Master Holdwin did seem a bit agitated about this task.” Wandrown frowned. “That’s not like him. He’s usually calm, and I’ve never seen him agitated.” Lendon shook his head. “He’s probably crammed with his work, I mean he, being an archmage and all.” They walked past a group of guards armed with swords and large shields. Wandrown thought back to what Ester said about the bandit attacks. “Captain, is it true that more bandits are attacking the roads.” Lendon nodded. “Unfortunately, there gettin’ a bit outta hand, not sure why though. Master Holdwin has ordered more patrols beyond our walls to make sure none come near us.” Wandrown nodded; he wondered what task could have Master Holdwin so agitated. They soon came to a large building, Cottenbranch’s ancient library. The library was among the most magnificent buildings in the town, second only to the Mages citadel and the Faiths Cathedral. It contained many books, including the history of Cottonbranch and the history of the Landoran empire. A pair of large torches sat at the entrance of the library. Lendon led Wandrown up the large flight of stairs toward the two imposing main doors of the Libary. “Master Holdwin is in his study; don’t keep him waitin’.” “Thank you, captain Lendon.” Wandrown said. Lendon nodded and turned back down the steps. Wandrown looked up at the two marble doors; engravings lined them; one showed a Chimera and a knight in the middle of battle, the second showed dragons and the Landoran Emporer, Ardus, locked in combat. Wandrown gripped the door handle and opened it. He was imminently greeted by an elderly elf wearing a brown cloak, the hood pulled over his head. “Ah yes, young Wandrown, welcome to Cottonbranch’s library; Master Holdwin wishes to speak with you privately. If you’ll only follow me.” Wandrown 53

nodded. “Yes, sir.” The elf smiled. “Ah yes, polite as ever, just this way.” Wandrown smiled. “Thank you, brother Borges.” He followed the elf through the grand hall of the library. Wandrowns eyes studied the grand hall. Shelves full of books stood tall, some nearly reaching the ceiling. Several other men and women clad in brown robes shuffled silently around the library, some carrying books and others carrying pieces of parchment. The elf ushered Wandrown past a small shelf of ancient texts and into a small room. A woman clad in brown robes, similar to Brother Borges’s, was there to greet them, “Greetings, brother Borges.” said the woman, bowing reverently. “And hello Wandrown, my you have grown.” Wandrown smiled. “Hello, sister Tel, it has been some time.” Brother Borges bowed to Tel, “Good morning, sister Tel, we require the lift to Master Holdwin’s study with most haste.” Sister Tel nodded. “Of course, one moment, please.” She pulled down on the lever, and the sound of chains moving filled the room. Soon a wooden plank board was pulled up. Brother Borges smiled. “Thank you, sister Tel; we won’t be too long.” Sister Tel noded, and Brother Borges and Wandrown entered the lift. Sister Tel pulled the lever once more. Wandrown felt the lift begin to descend; he coughed as he accidentally inhaled the dust in front of his nose. Brother Borges smiled. “You’ll get used to the dust.” Wandrown nodded, wiping his watering eyes. The chain creaked and rattled, and the platform soon touched the ground, sending more dust into the air. Wandrown looked, taking in his surroundings. The hallway was dimly lit by torchlight, and the pitter-pattering of rats echoed through the hallway. Wandrown stepped off the lift, followed by Brother Borges. Borges pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “Master Holdwin is waiting for you.” Wandrown nodded. “Thank you, Brother Borges.” Wandrown turned and started toward the door. The rat’s scurrying began to grow louder. Wandrown soon approached the door. Wandrown had only been allowed in master Holdwins study once when he was a child. He took hold of the handle and pulled; the door opened with a small creek.

His eyes were met with a marvelous sight. Several bookshelves sat next to each other, old maps dotted the walls, potion bottles were stacked neatly, a desk was placed by a wall, and several candles and parchment pieces lay on it. Wandrown stepped forward toward the desk. One small piece of parchment caught his attention. He picked it up and began to read. The parchment read, “On this day, two gods battle for control, balance forsaken, death rules overall life, one will soon restore the balance forsaken by the foolish gods, the one chosen 54

by the gods shall be named godchosen, and by the makers, light will be thy mortal realms shield-. A voice spoke, making Wandrown jump. “Might I ask why you are late, Wandrown Harkepur?” Wandrown turned his head and looked up; a black man stood wearing blue and gold-colored robes and a small leather circlet around his head; he held a book. “Sorry, master Holdwin, sir.” Holdwin simply closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He then turned to face Wandrown, “Time is of the utmost urgency, Wandrown, do not let yourself astray.” Wandrown watched as Holdwin descended a small flight of stairs and started toward a box with strange designs and symbols. Holdwin picked up the box and brought it over to the desk, placing it down gently. Wandrown looked at the box, “Master Holdwin, what is my task? I’ve still no idea.” Holdwin sighed, “Wandrown, I wanted to wait until you were older, but we’ve run out of time.” Holdwin opened the chest, “Are you familiar with the story of the god of life and god of death?” Wandrown nodded. “Yes, master Holdwin, but the faith claims it’s fake and just a lie made by heretics.” Holdwin shook his head, “No child, it’s real. The god of life, Ival, is dead, murdered by his brother Valas, god of death.” Wandrown looked at Holdwin confused, “But the faith says that life would no longer exist if Ival were to die.” Holdwin touched the parchment, “These are the latest reports from my mages; we have been testing on several dead corpses; if this research is right, the souls have not left their bodies.” Holdwin placed down the parchment, “Meaning the Valas can choose what to do with them and from what we’ve seen he’s creating an army.” Wandrown looked at the parchment, scanning it “What does this have to do with me?” Holdwin picked up another piece of parchment and cleared his throat, “On this day, two gods battle for control, balance forsaken, death rules over all of life, one must restore the balance forsaken by the foolish gods, the one chosen by the gods shall be named godchosen, and by the makers, light will be thy mortal realms shield, protector of all life. The godchosen will face trials and tribulations and may suffer and fall; only the godchosen can accept this, by their own will and none other.” Holdwin set down the parchment and waved his hand in front of the chest. The chest made a series of clicking sounds until it opened. Wandrown watched as Holdwin placed his hand in the chest in removed a medallion. It was silver, with several strange engravings that glowed purple. “It’s time you learn of your heritage, who you are.”

Wandrown nodded silently, a strange feeling filling his stomach. Holdwin spoke, “Your father was the godchosen, a knight in Emporer 55

Ardus’s military, and chose to accept this quest. He left behind a wife and a son, you, seeking guidance and wisdom. I assisted him in his quest. However, once we reached Ival’s tomb, we were ambushed. Your father fought like a hero, but there was one man, his name was Drice, he killed your father.” Wandrown took a shaky breath, “What happened after? Did you kill Drice? Did anyone else survive?” Holdwin shook his head, “No, dear child; I was the only survivor; I brought your father’s body back, only to discover Cottonbranch had been attacked by Drice’s forces. Your mother, she, was found among the dead.” Wandrown shook his head, lowering it. “I don’t believe it.” Holdwin placed a hand on his shoulder, “Wandrown, your the god chosen now.” Wandrown looked up. “But master Holdwin, I’m the last person you should entrust this with; why don’t you take the medallion?” A shadow fell over Holdwins face. “I have.” Wandrown gave him a confused look. Holdwin sighed, “It chooses the one that carries it. If it deems one unworthy, it destroys them.” Wandrown looked at the medallion, “Why me?” Holdwin pated Wandrowns shoulder, “Its the will of the gods; we are only conduits for them.” Wandrown nodded and took the medallion and placed it around his neck. Holdwin smiled, “The task is for us to return the medallion to Ivals tomb to restore him.” Wandrown nodded, “Yes Master Holdwin, when do we depart?”

Holdwin sat at his desk, “I have some documents I must study; you are to report to Sergent Articrus for the proper training. After your training, we will depart for the city of Stoross.” Wandrown nodded, but he remembered Torrance. “Master Holdwin, one of the milers, Torrance, has requested a book. Would you know what it’s called?” Holdwin smiled and laughed, “Ah yes, it’s been some time since Torrance has requested a book. The book is called a Tale of the Rose Queen.” Wandrown nodded, “Thank you, master Holdwin.”

Wandrown entered the hallway, thinking of Holdwin’s words, “godchosen?” “Ival dead?” Wandrown’s mind raced with questions. He continued down the tunnel, his hands gripping the medallion under his shirt. Brother Borges’s voice brought his attention back. “Shall we return to the library, Wandrown?” Wandrown nodded, “Yes, brother Borges, forgive me; I was distracted.” Borges smiled, “It is of no consequence. Let us return.” Wandrown stepped onto the platform, and brother Borges clapped his hands twice. Then, the platform began to ascend.

Wandrown continued to feel the medallion. It was heavy, yet t felt light against his neck. Suddenly his vision began to become fuzzy. He 56

turned to Brother Borges, who looked as if nothing had happened. Wandrown suddenly felt himself falling. He tried to cry out, but his voice choked up as if he’d swallowed sand. He looked down at his chest and realized that the medallion was glowing purple. His vision returned to him, but he was standing in a white flowing river. The water contained several ghost-like creatures; they floated past him, some still speaking in voices, sending chills down Wandrown’s spine. Suddenly a loud voice filled his head. “Your soul hangs in my grasp now, mortal. Can you not see this?” Wandrown turned and noticed a large machine and realized that every one of the creatures was floating toward it. A tall, bright, purple beam emanated from the machine’s top. The creatures began screaming as they got closer to the machine, and the voice began to laugh, a demonic demented laugh, “All souls return to me; my kingdom grows stronger each passing day!” Wandrown suddenly felt the medallion beginning to pull him upward. He tried to call out, but his voice would not let him speak.

The story continues in The Godchosen by Alexander Reisig