Chosenborn: 5 Fantasy Heroes Chosen to Lead

By J. A. Bouma

Welcome to the Isle of Aleythia! A fantastic world of edenic bliss and high fantasy intrigue where all is not as it seems.

 

This collection of five original short stories follows five characters from five different walks of life—letting the world of Aleythia unfold with every opinion and event, giving rise to the world and shape to its history.

 

There is the Highborn princess Jayel born to royalty who longs for a different life—which is made too clear by those closest to her.

 

Then the Swordborn soldier Judah who wonders about his past, and whether he can cut it in the future, getting into a fight he didn't expect.

 

Clericborn Symeon of the Tabernacle admits doubts about Elyonism, especially when tapped for a special assignment serving Elyon Himself—which he's not sure he wants.

 

The Elementborn Coralyne, Alchemyst student-in-training, wonders about the division between science and faith, then stumbles upon a secret that challenges Aleythian assumptions with someone important to her at the center.

 

Finally, the Mystborn Tytus, son of a ruling clansman who longs to discover the Beyondland through the Myst and save his people from constant fighting and despair—getting into a fight of his own with lasting implications.

 

Experience this new fantasy world as it unfolds through the thoughts, experiences, and opinions of these five characters. After all every world is built one story at a time, one character at a time.

 

Same for the Isle of Aleythia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EmmausWay Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201535551

Book preview

Introduction

Welcome to the Isle of Aleythia, a fantasy world that’s not entirely yet formed but promises to hold lots of mystery and conspiratorial intent.

Let me explain.

Since childhood, I have loved reading fantasy. Of course there are the mainstays of Lewis’s Narnia and Tolkein’s Middle Earth. Then as an adult, Martin’s Westeros, with all of its infighting and intrigue, as well as Pulman’s Golden Compass series, an oldie but new to me that offered interesting insight into an atheist’s Narnia takedown attempt. The religious writer Ted Dekker’s Circle Trilogy opened up interesting vistas of possibility when it comes to combining Christian imagery with fantasy—a sort of modern take on Lewis. More recently, Kristine Katheryn Rusch’s The Fey series has whet my appetite for the genre as well, reminding me why I love the escapism and social commentary good fantasy offers.

Now to Aleythia.

As a thriller author writing mostly religious conspiracy action-adventures—filled with exploding cars and gun fights on top of threatened relics and religious beliefs that hang in the balance beneath the Sword of Damocles offered by ancient shadow organizations keeping the Church on its toes—I have also kept in the back of my writer’s mind a high fantasy world that might offer a different sort of playground than the modern one, or even the future one I created in another series when the Apocalypse arrives. This world, Aleythia, is a sort of Eden, where everyone’s

But not all is as it seems; it never is in fantasy or real life. 

There is family betrayal and questions about self-worth and direction. Clans are pitted against one another in desperate quests for power. Faith and science are used and abused to gain and maintain power. Ancient myths forged in true life with instructive prophecies are long forgotten—portending devastating future consequences.

At the center of it all are a cast of Chosenborn characters—men and women coming of age, elders passing on the torch; some discovering their identity and others clinging desperately to it; some questioning their path while others are forging it on their own; still more wondering their place in the Isle while looking back with painful regret.

These are some of their stories.

This collection of five original short stories follows five characters from five different walks of life. Each story fits into a larger whole that will eventually tell a high-tale spanning several full-length novels of intrigue and betrayal, mystery and suspense spanning an epic world worthy of the genre. 

There is the Highborn princess Jayel born to royalty who longs for a different life—which is made too clear by those closest to her.

Then the Swordborn soldier Judah who wonders about his past, and whether he can cut it in the future, getting into a fight he didn’t expect. 

Clericborn Symeon of the Tabernacle admits doubts about Elyonism, especially when tapped for a special assignment serving Elyon Himself—which he’s not sure he wants. 

The Elementborn Coralyne, Alchemyst student-in-training, wonders about the division between science and faith, then stumbles upon a secret that challenges Aleythian assumptions with someone important to her at the center. 

Finally, the Mystborn Tytus, son of a ruling clansman who longs to discover the Beyondland through the Myst and save his people from constant fighting and despair—getting into a fight of his own with lasting implications.

Not sure where the world will go, but this collection is the start of that journey. After all, every world is built one story at a time, one character at a time, adding up to our collective pilgrim story.

Whether this real one or the Aleythian fantasy one.

1

Judah Swordborn

My body shook even as I felt weightless in a sea of bright, brilliance. Floating, drifting, mesmerized by the all-around luminescence. As if I were encased in the Eternal Flame itself, yet unscorched.

And Myst.

It was swirling in thick ribbons of white gold, the light refracting all around and casting rainbows in brilliant tendrils that wrapped themselves around my arms and legs and waist, reaching over and under. Smelled of honeysuckle and rose petals, sweet and inviting. A cooling refreshness penetrated deep inside my bones. Not chilling me or making me frigid, but reviving me. That honeysuckle smell was now joined by the taste of its sweet nectar, light and full in my mouth.

It was my own Firmament, the paradise promised those who passed from this life to the next as those faithfully entrusted with Elyon’s Truth.

Judah…

My name suddenly split through the bliss, in the distance and far beyond the myst. Calling, beckoning, wooing me to come. To visit, even.

Except whatever lay past the Myst was forbidden. Alterra was chaos and wickedness, all of it held at bay by the Myst of Ya’Mare itself floating upon the crystal waters of the sea surrounding Aleythia like a shield, protecting us, keeping the chaos and evil at bay.

And the Goyim. The Others from Ages Past who threatened all that Aleythia held dear.

Judah…

There it was again. Sing-songy and inviting. Familiar, even. As if it were part of me. My own song, my own voice—my very self. Almost in two cooperative timbers, male and female. Mother and Father.

The thought shattered my bliss, the reminder of my status yanking me back to reality.

Strangeborn.

A child of unknown origins.

Goyborn more like it, as my mates mocked in passing under their breath. In the barracks before bed, in the dining hall during mid-meal, during practice in the courtyard with drawn wooden swords at drill time.

Didn’t happen often; rarely happened, if at all. Wasn’t supposed to happen, even, the Isle of Aleythia having laws against such things, mystical codes encouraging and enforcing two-parent families.

But there I was. That’s who I was.

Judah…

The call was strong now, joined by the cawing of a bird, then a chorus of five or six, and the sounds of lapping water joined by a ship’s horn announcing its arrival. Then another shake that was stronger yet.

Until—

The bright bliss and the Myst suddenly vanished in a bucket of water dousing my dream sleep.

Bolting upright from the sudden turn, I nearly choked on the cool, briny wetness flooding my mouth and nose, the taste of salt and fish washing across my tongue and making me retch.

I spun around on the rough, weather-worn boards of the dock, coughing up the water that had flooded my gullet back into the sea along with my earlier lunch. The olives and cheese tasted far worse going out than going down.

Shrilly laughter filled my ears as I finished. Spinning back around, I threw open my eyes, the brightness of the day making me regret my decision. Water dribbled down my face as I searched for breath, the continued familiar cackle and cawing of a bloody flock of gulls only out matched by—

Symeon…

Before he knew what was what, I had a hand on that linen tunic hanging on my mate’s scrawny chest, tipping him over the edge of the dock that ran into the Waters of Ya’Mare.

Oy, mate, don’t do it. Don’t do it! You know I cannot swim!

His feet were hinged at the edge of the weather-worn wood that had stood the test of time and commerce, boats having used it for centuries to haul and hawk their wares from one point on the Isle to another. ‘Twas the reason I had that lunch of olives and cheese in the first place, the lunch that was floating out to sea now.

My tight grip on Symeon’s bunched up clerical shirt was the only thing keeping him dry, no thanks to his own idea of a joke! I gave him a shake, putting the fear of Elyon and all his Saints in the little weasel.

Symeon cried out, one eye on my wet red face and the other on the clear blue waters below. This is the thanks I get for saving your hide? Please, Judah, let me down.

Saving my hide? You bloody well soaked my hide!

I gave him another shake to let him know what was what, his leather sandals slapping against the wood for purchase.

Saw you lying here and figured I’d lend a helping hand.

Lend a helping hand? For what bloody reas—

You m–m–missed the call for afternoon drill! Symeon called out, grabbing my bare arms and holding on for dear life.

Afternoon drill?

Symeon leaned toward me and sniffed, then twisted up his nose. By Elyon and his Saints, is that mead I smell on your breath?

Ignoring him, I sucked in a startled