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For the last seventeen years, Doci had lived the life of an ordinary boy with his family in Aisis Lip.  At an early age, his father had begun teaching him all the knowledge that he had gained during his lifetime, as well as all that his father had taught him, many years before.

That was how things were done in Altaris: a grouping of farms that had united three centuries ago to form a hamlet.  The hamlet was situated in the Valley of the Altar, not too far west of Enchantus.  The river Winding began its long journey from the base of the mountains in the Valley, twisting and turning its way through Enchantus and Aisis Lip, northwards, until it reached the distant shores, breaking into a delta around the great city of Whitehaven.  There were three other hamlets in the Valley: Crucibus and Byrka to the west of the river, with Kyrka and Altaris to the east; in a bend in the river sat the town of Slim, where once a month the farmers of the hamlets would all convene at a grand market to exchange goods.
    
Doci had worked on his father’s farm for most of his life, which had been owned and run by his family for many generations.  He expected take over the running of the farm once his father either died or became too old to do the job.  However, this was a long way off, Doci thought. 
    
On every fourth day month, they would collect all the cultivated goods that were ripe and ready, and transport them to the village of Enchantii, not too far from Enchantus Palace, where they were sold.
    
That had been life for Doci for just about as far back as he could remember, and now it had all changed; it seemed almost like his past had been a complete waste of time.
    
It began on the eve of his seventeenth birthday, as Doci sat down to his favorite meal of meat and potatoes.  From the start something was wrong.  He usually got his favorite meal on the actual day of his birthday and never the day before; he was given a larger helping than anyone else, and Doci couldn’t help but feel with the way his mom heaped the food on his plate that it seemed like this was his last meal, which was just absurd.
    
Then there was the way everyone was reacting, except his brother, of course.  Matt was his ordinary self: as talkative as ever, recounting the ups and downs of the day, going into detail about his experiences and what his take on them was.  But there was something weird going on with his parents – Ordam and Megan.  They seemed jittery, almost excited about something, and he knew it wasn’t about him turning seventeen tomorrow.  His father was usually tired when he sat down to dinner, he would rarely say much and just slowly eat his food, keeping his head down and not contributing to the conversation.  Tonight he hadn’t said a word to anyone, but he kept looking up and staring at Doci, to the point where his father was starting to creep him out a little.  And instead of slouching, he was ramrod straight, looking as if he had just woken from a long refreshing sleep, which Doci knew wasn’t the case, since he’d seen him coming in from he field less than an hour ago.
    
Then there was his mother.  Megan would usually be dishing out food to everyone, giving extras when requested, and being a focal part of whatever conversation was going on; always interjecting with Matt, and telling him some of her own stories of the day.  She also would be dashing in and out from the kitchen to the living room where the dinner table was, with pots of food in her hands until everyone had what they wanted; then she would dish out her own plate and finally join everyone at the table for dinner.  Tonight she just wasn’t the same person.
    
Tonight she’d been just as silent as Ordam, and it was like she was mute, for even when Matt asked her a question in relation to his day, she would quickly nod and disappear back into the kitchen without an answer.  Then there was the strangeness with the food.  The food itself was delicious, but Megan never came out once with a pot in her hands.  She prepared each plate in the kitchen and served it to each respective person, bringing her own out (which got cold) and spending a longer time preparing Doci’s.  She came out with the food heaped on the plate in a big hill and both Doci and Matt had watched in shock.  Ordam, at this time, was eating his meal, looking up at Doci every ten seconds.  Megan placed the plate in front of Doci, then walked around the table as silent as a mouse, sat in her seat and began eating without a word.  Matt kept on talking, thinking that the more he talked, the more he would get an answer from someone before dinner was over.
    
As Doci worked through his giant meal, ignoring his staring father, he saw his mother look up at him and then at Ordam, and back to her food.  She kept up this cycle for the duration of the meal, without speaking a single word.
    
Once everyone was finished, Megan cleared away the dishes in silence.  Matt had given up talking, feeling tired and out of breath.  When she returned, Ordam looked at Matt for the first time that evening.
    
Doci could now feel the anxiousness emanating from his parents, like a static electricity in the air, invisible but obvious 
    
“Matt,” his father said, “please go to your room and play.  Your mother and I need to talk with Doci.”
    
Nothing like this had ever been spoken in the house before.  Doci wondered if he’d done something wrong.  What was going on here?
    
“Why?” Matt asked, just as confused as Doci.
    
“You don’t need to know right now.  Please, just go to your room.”
    
Matt had seen his father angry on a number of occasions, and only once had it been because of him.  He remembered it all too well and didn’t need to be told twice.  Without further comment, he pushed his chair back, stood up, and went to his room.
    
Ordam and Megan were now staring intently at Doci, visibly shaking with excitement.
    
“What?” he said, terrified.
    
They both smiled for the first time that night, lighting up their faces and breaking the façade.  They looked at each other, waiting for some kind of sign, then Ordam gave a slight nod and they both looked back at Doci.
    
Megan took a breath.  When she spoke it came out rushed and over rehearsed, but Doci could still understand her.
    
“As you know, tomorrow is your birthday, except this one is more important than any other you’ve had.  It will be the most important day of your life, because . . .”
    
She looked at Ordam again, who repeated the nod.
    
“. . . Because you are to be the Chosen One’s guide.”
    
Now they both leaned forward, hoping for some reaction from him.
    
“Who is the Chosen One?” Doci said.
    
His mother took another breath.
    
“In the palace of Enchantus, in a special room, sits a very old book know as the Scriptures.  It is a great book on the history of Aisis Lip from the viewpoint of the Enchantans, because their wizards wrote it.  This is one of the jobs of the wizard of Enchantus: to write down the people’s history and important happenings of the time, as well as to record any future events he prophesizes within the people’s future. 
    
“It was one of the first wizards of Enchantus, in the kingdom’s infancy, before the Bloody War, who was seen as the most powerful and with the greatest prophesying powers of all the wizards in the history of Enchantus.  It was he who wrote of the vision of a future time when our world would be threatened by an unstoppable evil, but the Chosen One would come from another world to stop this evil.  He also wrote that because the Chosen One would be a stranger to these worlds, she would need a guide, a boy with a certain mark upon him.  Doci, the mark you bear upon your hand wasn’t the cause of an accident when you were a child, but is the very mark that was spoken of in the Scriptures.”

The scar lines were a distinguishable white from the rest of his hand.  He knew he’d always had a bit of problem believing the wound was caused by a sharp piece of glass.  To make such a wound, he would’ve had to drag the glass repeatedly, cutting deep into his skin and causing unimaginable pain.  He knew it made little sense; over the years he’d told himself that the old scar mixed with new ones from all the farm work he did.  It was something he didn’t like to talk about, and rarely looked at it because it was so ugly.  But now . . .
    
“We’ve know about this since the day you were born,” his mother continued.  “It is thought that the mark shows a path leading to three other paths: with you as the Guide for the Chosen One, you will know which path to take to get to where you need to go.  That is not confirmed, nevertheless, it is your destiny.  All that is really known is what is recorded in the Scriptures: on the day of the Guide’s seventeenth birthday, he will meet with the Chosen One and they will begin their quest together.”
    
Megan stopped and looked at Ordam.
    
“I received word yesterday afternoon,” Ordam said, “from a messenger from Enchantus Palace that the Chosen One had passed through into this world and is now with the Queen, preparing herself for the quest.”
    
Doci now looked at his father with fear.  It was all happening as the Scriptures said.
    
“So tomorrow,” Doci said, “I’m to meet the Chosen One and we’re to begin our . . . quest?”
    
“Yes,” his father said.  “At dawn, I will take you to the prearranged meeting point and there you will meet her.”
    
“And I don’t have a choice in this?” he said.
    
“Of course not,” his father immediately replied.
    
His mother took her time.
    
“This is something very important for all the people of Aisis Lip.  We’ve waited for so long to tell you of your calling, that you won’t spend the rest of your life a farmer.  While I hate the thought of letting you go, I know it is for the good of the Queen, and for all the people of this world.”
    
“What of this evil we must face?” he asked.
    
“We know next to nothing,” Ordam said.  “There are not many who know much.  I’m sure once you meet with the Chosen One, you will learn much more of your quest and what you are to do.”
    
Doci had had enough of this.
    
“Very well then,” he said, trying to sound strong.  “I’ll be going to sleep now, I need my rest.”
    
He stood up and walked into his room, closing the door behind him, while his parents looked on him with different expressions: Ordam proud, Megan worried and sad.
    
In his room, he fell on his bed, burying his face in his pillow.  He could feel the hot tears being absorbed by the cotton.  He wasn’t sure if they were of joy or despair.  Perhaps both.  He had very mixed feelings.  The thought of meeting this Chosen One and facing some evil terrified him.  What did he know about fighting, he was just a farmer!  But the thought of leaving the farm and leaving the Valley and venturing off into new and distant lands sent a quiver of excitement through his body.  He’d always wanted to explore and go off on adventures, but always figured he’d stay on the same farm, farming for the rest of his life. 

And now . . . ?
    
Doci didn’t sleep at all that night, so at dawn, when his father came to his door, he was ready.

    
After half an hour, Ordam cried out “Oha!” and the wagon stopped.  He turned to face Doci who was shaking with a mixture of excitement and fear.
    
“Well, we’re here, this is the place I was told to bring you.”
    
Doci looked around at nature going about its business, but saw no one around.
    
“Where is she then?” he said.
    
Ordam looked around.
    
“I expect she’ll be along any minute.  Now, let me tell you something I’m not going to tell your mother.  You are the Guide now.  We all know that.  And the Guide’s job is to . . .”
    
“Lead the way,” Doci said.  “To take her to her destination and face the evil.  But how will I know the way, I hardly ever leave Altaris.”
    
“You will know, in time, you will just know.  But yes, you’re the Guide.  You take Chosen One to where she needs to go, to the end of your quest.  And once you’re there, here’s what you do: turn around and run; you run like you’ve never run before and you keep running until you get back here.  You’re the Guide, so your only job is to guide her where she wants to go and then you need to get back here quick as you can.  I don’t want no son of mine getting into unnecessary danger and risking his life for some silly little girl.”
    
Doci’s eyes widened.
    
“I don’t know what you’re going to be facing when you get to the end, and you don’t need to know either.  You just get back here.  I need to you promise me this son, promise me.”
    
Doci looked into his father’s eyes and saw tears threatening to spill, and then one did, rolling down his cheek to the corner of his mouth.  He’d never seen is father cry before.  It wasn’t making this any easier.
    
“Okay dad, I promise,” he said.  “I promise as soon as I’ve taken the Chosen One where she wants to go, I’ll come right back, straight away.”
    
Ordam nodded, then jumped out of the wagon and walked around to his son, who’d jumped down.  He embraced him in a bear hug, holding him tight for a long time, then finally let go.  Doci now had tears in his eyes.
    
Ordam got back in the wagon, cried “Ohoi!” and started off, turning around and heading back home.  As the wagon neared the bend in the road around a grove of tress, Ordam looked back once and waved.  Doci waved back and wondered for the first time if he would ever see his father again, or any of his family for that matter.
    
As Doci stood, thinking about all that happened in such a short time, a voice spoke behind him.