Caelihn
A Novel of the Otherworld
by
Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
Copyrighted Material
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. All material in connection with Celtic myth has been borrowed and interpreted for use in the plot of the story only. Cover image is the sole property of the author. The Faelorehn font on the cover image and interior of this book was created by P.A. Vannucci (www.alphabetype.it) to be used in the Otherworld Series. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.
Caelihn
Copyright © 2015 by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book or its cover may be reproduced in any manner without written permission from its creator.
For more information and to contact the author, visit:
www.jennaelizabethjohnson.com
This book is dedicated to the memory of Sr. Mary Keavey, who engendered in me a love for the written word.
Contents
One
Transition
Two
Departure
Three
Arrival
Four
Tour
Five
Study
Six
Disclosure
Seven
Revelry
Eight
Entreaty
Nine
Send-Off
Ten
Interim
Eleven
Storm
Twelve
Aftermath
Thirteen
Conference
Fourteen
Theory
Fifteen
Respite
Sixteen
Caelihn
Afterward
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Other Books by this Author
Connect with me Online
Sneak Peek of Faeleahn, Book Eight of the Otherworld Series
Caelihn
-Chapter One-
Transition
Focus, Robyn. Focus. Breathe in, breathe out . . .
My eyes were pointed straight ahead, my heartbeat steady. Without moving an inch or taking my attention from my target, I opened up my senses and scrutinized my surroundings. Far above me, the sunlight trickled in between the newly unfurled beech tree leaves, warming my skin and hair. I took another deep breath, gathering in the scent of clean earth, fresh spring rain and flower petals ready to burst free of their confines. The subtle sounds of birds and other forest creatures going about their daily chores only added to the magic of the Weald, and this mild bustle helped ease me into my trance.
Alright, it wasn’t really a trance. Just an exercise Enorah had taught me to help find my glamour and encourage it to work with me: to take note of everything around me, then set it off to the side, so I didn’t have to worry about any outside distractions. I’d also discovered that it came in handy while zeroing in on a target some fifty yards away.
As I calmed my mind, the index finger of my right hand pressed gently against the trigger of the crossbow held up to my shoulder. I narrowed my gaze, focusing completely on the farthest target away and released one final breath slowly through my nose. Just as I was about to increase the pressure on the trigger, something came to rest on my shoulder. I started a little but didn’t let the bolt fly free. That was one of the earliest lessons Enorah and the other archers had taught me: fierce control. Never release an arrow unless you had full control of every step leading up to the exact moment it left the bowstring behind.
The tension at being surprised, however, remained. That is, until familiar fingers brushed against the side of my neck. The tightness in my muscles drained away, and I brought the crossbow down to rest against my thigh. Even without turning around to see who it was, I recognized Devlin’s touch. I smiled softly and leaned into him, temporarily forgetting my practice and, instead, relishing the smooth caress of his hands over my skin. He bent and pressed his mouth to my neck, whispering endearments in the language of Eile as he worked his way up to my ear.
“How are your exercises going this morning?”
Well, there went what tiny bit of concentration I’d been clinging onto for dear life. I released a small sigh and turned my head, so I could look up into his eyes. Then, grinning, I returned my focus to the target and took aim once again, pulling the trigger with confidence. The small bolt flew through the air, slamming into the painted target mere inches from the bull’s eye.
“My aim is getting better,” I chirped, patting the bow, which I had christened Venom.
The crossbow had been a gift from Devlin, as well as from Enorah.
“I have a feeling you’ll take well to this,” Enorah, the tall Faelorehn woman had said upon presenting me with the bow several weeks ago.
She’d been right. I was still struggling with knife and sword fighting, having only been in Eile for a few months, but as soon as I picked up a crossbow and took aim, I knew I’d found my calling. And, at least this way, I could contribute something to the Wildren of the Weald.
I turned and laced my fingers together at the small of Devlin’s back. Pressing my cheek against his chest, I took long, deep breaths, listening to his heartbeat and finding comfort in his scent.
“Yes, this aspect of my training is going very well, but my glamour’s still being stubborn.”
“Much like its mistress?” he murmured against my hair.
I pulled away just enough to punch him lightly in the stomach. Ow! Certainly that hurt me more than him. Devlin chuckled and pulled me back into a comfortable embrace.
“I don’t appreciate your teasing,” I grumbled.
“But it is so much fun to rile you up.” He stepped away from me and gently took my face in his hands. “You are so adorable when you’re irritated.”
Adorable? Me?! I glowered at him. “How many times have I asked you not to use that word when describing me?”
Devlin shrugged. “I can’t remember. Would you prefer I use the term charming? Or cute? Or delectable?”
Ugh, could he get any sappier? He must have noticed the look of abject horror on my face because in the next second, Devlin ducked his head and nipped me on the nose.
“I’ll try to use more masculine words next time. How about robust, dashing or gallant?”
And that just slapped the exasperation right out of me. My shoulders started to shake with withheld laughter. “Oh, that’s enough! Someone will hear you and report back to Enorah or Rhyne!”
Enorah, the fearless leader of the Wildren, would more than likely tease the both of us to no end about our mutual infatuation, and at the worst possible times, too. I could only imagine what would happen if she were to fling those very terms back at me in the middle of a sparring lesson just to throw me off my guard. I could picture her now, standing on the sidelines, her eyes gleaming with mischief, as she described my ‘delectable’ use of the sword or the ‘robust’ way I moved around my opponent. Ugh. Back in the mortal world, I had been the one to embarrass my friends without the slightest hint of shame. Enorah had a talent for using my own medicine against me, and Rhyne would be just as bad.
The sudden thought of Devlin’s little brother quickly brought my mirth to an end. I had been nervous about meeting Rhyne, but he had been everything I’d expected him to be: a mischievous younger version of Devlin, who not only ribbed his older brother every chance he got, but adored him above everyone else. To him, Devlin was the father he never had, his only family in the world. I had liked him immediately.
Although he had been very accepting of our relationship in the beginning, I had been getting a strange v
ibe from Rhyne of late, as if he was afraid I’d take his big brother away from him. After all, I was the reason Devlin failed to capture the Daramorr and the reason the two of them had lost their chance at having their own home. Diarnan Castle was to be Devlin’s reward from the High Queen Danua for capturing the Morrigan’s devotee, Mikael, but because of my interference, he had fallen short of his goal.
Biting my lip, I removed myself from Devlin’s embrace and stepped back. Sometimes, I worried about Rhyne. I suspected that even though he was clearly happy for Devlin and me, something about seeing us together dampened a bit of his spark. There was a subtle sadness to the looks he cast our way when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, but I didn’t dare bring it up. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate his brother’s girlfriend asking him about the emotions he clearly wanted to keep to himself.
I couldn’t let any of it bother me now, however, and I really needn’t worry about him or Enorah. Both of them were gone from the Weald for the time being. Ten days ago, Enorah had received a summons from Queen Danua, and Rhyne had offered to go with her. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because of me and Devlin, but I had a feeling that our relationship had something to do with it.
“Is your glamour at least showing itself to you?” Devlin asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I sighed heavily and gathered up Venom and my spare bolts. Devlin walked with me to the target to retrieve the rest, and I shrugged.
“In all honesty? I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sometimes, I’ll get these strange tingling sensations, in my fingers and toes. But other times, the prickling shows up in the most random places, like behind my knee or in the middle of my back. I think it’s my glamour trying to work itself free, but then, it disappears as quickly as it arrives.”
Devlin pursed his lips and nodded. “Enorah told me that when Meghan first came to the Otherworld, it was the same for her.”
I smiled at the mention of Meghan’s name. Meghan was my best friend from back home, and about four years ago, she discovered she was Faelorehn and the daughter of Eile’s high queen. Now, she was married to Cade MacRoich, a Faelorehn man who had been the hottest guy I’d ever seen (until I’d met Devlin, of course), and the two of them lived in a castle like a fairy prince and princess. Except, this fairy princess wielded her wealth of magic like a great battle axe and had obliterated the Morrigan in a battle worthy of any Celtic legend.
We reached the moldering hay bale, and Devlin and I started plucking the bolts free of the straw. They were fashioned of rowan, the most effective wood against the faelah, the reanimated nightmares the Morrigan liked to use as her minions. Fortunately, the goddess was no longer around to create more, but that didn’t mean some hadn’t been left behind after her demise.
“So, I should stop worrying about my absent magic, then?” I asked Devlin as we headed back toward the trail that would lead us to the small village of the Wildren.
He nodded, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half grin. He reached out an arm and pulled me closer to his side. I accepted his partial embrace, and together, we strolled along, soaking up the warmth of the late morning sun and breathing in the fresh, clean air of the Weald. It was early April, and the green of the forest was finally starting to emerge after winter’s long visit. Small birds, chattering cheerfully and keeping busy with nest building, darted from one twig to another. The many brooks and streams of the forest flowed free, the icy edges of their banks starting to thaw. And finally, the sun was beginning to cut through the constant chill that often lingered in the air. Despite the overall joy and peace of the bright, sunny day and being nestled close to Devlin, I could feel my frustration building up again. My Lorehnin glamour was a mystery to all of us, and that fact alone had me on edge more often than not.
Once, I had managed to get my magic to crackle invisibly along my skin, but that was only when Devlin had fed some of his own glamour to me. When I had made the decision to overturn my life and give up everything I’d worked for in the mortal world in exchange for a new beginning in the Otherworld, I was counting on my glamour being there for me in case any more Daramorr decided to carve me up like a pumpkin.
I shuddered as memories I would just as soon forget surfaced to my mind. At the very beginning of the year, I had been kidnapped by a devotee to the Morrigan and brought to Eile. The Daramorr, Mikael, and his sister Moira had tried to kill me and steal my magic. They had been very close to succeeding, but Devlin had arrived just in time to thwart them. Too bad they managed to scurry off with a rather sizeable portion of my Lorehnin magic. Now, I was starting to wonder if they’d taken all of it and left nothing behind.
“Don’t fret,” Devlin told me, rubbing his hand up my side. “Your magic just needs time to heal and time to get used to being back in Eile.”
Oh. I must have been thinking out loud again. Or, he had grown far too good at reading my emotions.
Devlin took my hand and lifted it to his mouth to press a kiss there. His unwavering support and affection was a balm to my tattered soul. Not only had I discovered I was Lorehnin (someone of mortal and Faelorehn blood) in the worst possible way, but four months ago, my foster parents had severed the last connection I’d had with them, making me an orphan once again. Okay, technically I was an adult, but it still hurt to have the only parents I’d ever known declare they couldn’t accept me for who I was. And this had happened before they knew I was Lorehnin. All in all, it had been a very trying year, and having Devlin, and now Enorah, Rhyne and all the Wildren of the Weald, willing to welcome me into their home, had been a blessing.
And tomorrow morning, I reminded myself, you will be leaving to go to the Amsihr Mountains where you may or may not find your blood relatives.
I was incredibly nervous about the prospect of tracking down my family, but Devlin had promised we would stop by Luathara Castle on the way and visit with Meghan and Cade. I could not wait to see Meghan again. I had written her a letter about a month after moving to the Weald with Devlin, and her response had been such fun to read. She’d stated enthusiastically that she didn’t believe me, and that she would murder me if I was playing a prank on her. The rest of the letter was a long list of questions: How could I be half Faelorehn? What was Devlin like? Where was I living? How did I like Eile? And, most importantly of all, she wanted to know why I hadn’t come to visit her yet. The letter I’d sent out after that one assured her that Devlin and I would be making a trip to Luathara very soon. And that day had finally come.
Shaking my head, I returned my thoughts to the conversation Devlin and I had been having earlier.
“I can feel my glamour, I just can’t picture it too well,” I admitted with a shrug. “It’s almost as if the magic in me is trapped inside an egg. I can detect it inside its shell, but I have no idea what it looks like.”
Devlin nodded and pursed his lips, his hands resting casually on his hips. “Glamour can be like that, especially with someone who grew up in the mortal world.”
I narrowed my eyes and released a sharp breath through my nose. If my glamour was as stubborn as I was, it might be a century before it graced us with its presence. Or, a less optimistic part of me whispered into my mind, your suspicions could be right after all, and Mikael and his horrid sister are now basking in the glow of magic that was once yours.
An image of the two of them, in all their resplendent Faelorehn beauty, dancing around in a cave as my electric violet magic rained down on them, flashed through my mind. Fierce anger pierced my heart, and I gritted my teeth. The stupid scene lingered, so I used my skills of imagination to envision a giant scorpion emerging from the depths of the cave to slice them in half with its pincers. As horrific as the image was, it made me feel a little bit better.
Devlin caught sight of my face and gave me one of his disarming smiles and said, “Don’t give up on it just yet.”
He reached out a hand, and I accepted it, reveling in the feel of his warm, long fingers lacing with mine. I shut my eyes and took a de
ep breath, the worry melting away under the warmth of the early spring sunlight. We walked in silence the rest of the way back to the small village of the Wildren, neither one of us needing to talk as we let the natural beauty of Eile occupy our senses.
Before long, the trail broke away from the crowded trees and blooming underbrush and spilled out onto a spacious meadow of sorts with a few large beech trees standing here and there, like living watch towers. The village of the Wildren itself was composed of several rustic cabins consisting of natural stone or logs topped with tightly-woven, thatched roofs. Many of the roofs were dotted with green patches of sod or moss. Some of the houses were single-storied units, a few others standing a bit taller, suggesting a lofted bedroom above the first floor. They all sported chimneys, for the Otherworld grew very cold in the winter. I hadn’t lived in the Weald for very long, but since arriving in mid-February, I had woken to find the ground dusted with snow at least three times.
Today, although still somewhat chilly with winter’s remnants, held a brightness to it that promised warmer days ahead. Devlin and I made our way between the clusters of cabins, pausing every now and then to make space for those moving a lot quicker than us. A variety of children, ranging in age from early toddler years to late teens, scurried about doing their daily chores or hurried off to their mid-morning lessons. I smiled, despite the nagging worry about my magic. One thing I’d learned for certain in the past several weeks was that Enorah was a gift from the Celtic gods. Not only did she take all these stray children in, no questions asked, but she insisted on giving each child who came into her care an education in both academics and defense. The Otherworld was a dangerous place, and she wanted to make sure they were prepared should they choose to leave the Weald when they reached adulthood.
Some of the youngest ones, not much older than five, if that, sat around in a circle as an adult read to them from an ancient, leather-bound book. In one open patch of land, the leaves had been swept clean, and some more children, these ones a little older, were busily scratching numbers into the dirt as their teacher called out instructions. Around the communal fire pit, a great cauldron hung suspended over a pile of dry wood. An older woman, probably Lorehnin like Devlin and me, was showing five teenagers how to properly prepare the midday meal, while two others worked diligently to get the fire lit. Down by the creek, another group was casting lines into the rushing water in the hopes of catching a fish or two. Beyond the edge of the village, where a large clearing stretched beyond the other side of the stream, several older children were trying their luck with archery.
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