by Emma Hamm
The Faceless Woman
Emma Hamm
ARC COPY
Copyright © 2018 by Emma Hamm
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Foreword
Glossary of Terminology
Prologue
1. The Witch And The Raven
2. The Woman Without A Face
3. A Journey Begins
4. The Blood Of A Dead God
5. Dreams Of Blood
6. The Palace Of Twilight
7. The Duchess Of Dusk
8. Bone Dance
9. Death Of The Duchess
10. Flight To The Isles
11. The Last Journey
12. The Raven King
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Write the story. Leap into the pages and allow others to follow you.
For all those who dream of being writers, I hope someday I get to read your tale.
Foreword
As always, I like to lead off my books by saying I am not a historian. All the books in the Otherworld Series are set in a fictional Ireland with no set time period other than “medieval”. I apologize to any reader who wishes a historical retelling or finds fault in this lack of exact dates.
There are a lot of incredible historical novels out there. I ask you to remember, this is a fantasy. Some things will be stretched, others might be historically inaccurate, but it’s never my intent to insult anyone.
Happy reading!
Glossary of Terminology
Tuatha dé Danann - Considered to be the “High Fae”, they are the original and most powerful faerie creatures.
Seelie Fae - Otherwise known as the the “Light Fae”, these creatures live their lives according to rules of Honor, Goodness, and Adherence to the Law.
Unseelie Fae - Considered the “Dark Fae”, these creatures follow no law and do not appreciate beauty.
Badb - An embodiment of the Morrigan, considered the Crone and war crow. She is a very dangerous faerie, who enjoys making deals with humans.
Will-o'-the-wisps - Small balls of light that guide travelers into bogs, usually with the intention for the humans to become lost.
Brownies - Friendly, mouse-like creatures who clean and cook for those who are kind to them.
Pixie - A winged faerie whose face resembles that of a leaf.
Changeling - Old or weak faeries swapped with human children, usually identified as a sickly child. Very rarely, these are ugly children whose parents are ashamed of them.
Gnome - Generally considered ugly, these small, squat faeries take care of gardens and have an impressive green thumb.
Dullahan - A terrifying and often evil faerie who carry their heads in their laps.
Bean Sidhe - Also known as a banshee, their screams are echoing calls that herald the death of whomever hears them.
Hy-brasil - A legendary isle which can only be seen once every seven years.
Boggart - A brownie who grows angry or loses their way turns into a boggart. They are usually invisible, and have a habit of placing cold hands on people’s faces as they sleep.
Pooka - A faerie which imitates animals, mostly dogs and horses.
Kelpie - A horse like creature who lives at the edge of a bog. It will try to convince you to ride it, at which point it will run underneath the water and drown the person on its back.
Selkie - A faerie which can turn into a seal, as long as it still has its seal skin.
Prologue
Once upon a time in a faraway land, there lived a pair of swan sisters. They were beautiful creatures and were coveted throughout the kingdom for their magic feathers.
Stories claimed a single feather, freely given, could grant one wish with no limitations. Kings, knights, and lords from far-off lands gathered at the swans' pond. For the promise of a wish was too powerful a temptation for them to disregard.
One proud king set his crown at their feet and said with pleasure, “I am the most powerful king in this land. I request a single feather from your side.”
“What shall you do with it?” the eldest sister asked.
“I will wish for wealth, so that my kingdom can prosper.”
But the swans saw there was only pride in his heart, not compassion. They turned him away and told him to focus his attention on enriching his people rather than his pockets.
A knight knelt before them, setting his helm on the ground near their feet. “Lady swans, I have protected many kings, I have fought in many wars, and I have saved many maidens. I beseech from you a single feather.”
“What shall you do with it?” the youngest sister asked.
“I will wish for unmeasured strength so I might better protect my charges.”
But they saw he had no wish to protect, only to harm. They turned him away and requested he learn from his mistakes rather than beg for brute strength.
The strongest and richest men and women of the kingdom gathered at the water's edge, each begging for a feather, but each were turned away. After many years of disappointment, the sisters swam close together in the center of the pond. They feared what the future might bring, for they saw greed devouring the hearts of man.
Then a day came when a raven croaked above them, perched on a branch of the ancient oak that shaded their waters.
The youngest swan lifted her head and stared up at him. “Will you request a wish as well?”
“I have no need of wishes. I am happy in my nest.” He cocked his head to the side. “But if you will freely give me a feather, I would make use of it.”
“What shall you do?”
“I shall wish you human, so I might provide for you a life of wealth and happiness.”
It was a strange request, and the sisters stared at each other in surprise. No one had ever wished for them before. They conferred and finally agreed to gift the raven a single feather.
The youngest sister swam to shore, plucked a white plume from her side, and set it in front of the raven. “Make your wish,” she said.
“I wish for you to be human and to never leave my side.”
Magic shimmered, and the swan became a beautiful woman with hair the color of midnight. She held out an arm for the raven, but gasped when he, too, became a man.
“I am a prince of the Fae,” he said, “and I have come to take you as my wife.”
The Witch And The Raven
Children clustered around the cauldron, their eyes round and chests still as they held their breath in anticipation of magic. They were curious little things. Some faces Aisling recognized, others she did not. They always ended up at her door as the sun set, and she always filled their empty bellies.
She pulled out a radish with a flourish and held it in front of her. “What is this?”
“A radish,” a girl with pumpkin-colored hair observed.
“No.” She held it against her chest as if the child had insulted the root vegetable. “It is not something so mundane as a radish. Who else has a guess?”
The children paused, looked at each other, and a little girl whispered, “Is it a giant’s eye?”
Aisling snapped her fingers and pointed at the girl. “Precisely. It's a giant’s eye, and I hunted the thing myself.”
“You did not!” one of the boys shouted, wiping a dirt-smudged hand under his runny nose.
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“I did. I followed it back to its cave by smell.” She touched her nose. “Giants never take baths, so they’re easy to find.”
The boy scowled. “But what about his footprints?”
“Well, those are exceedingly large, but he knew I was following him. He walked through the rivers so I would lose track of his steps. The waters flowed over the deep grooves he left in the earth and made them disappear.”
He scratched his cheek, narrowed his eyes, and tried to find a flaw in her story. “What do you need his eye for?”
“Why, my potion of course!” She gestured at the cauldron and let the radish plop into the heated water. “It’s an elixir of immortality.”
Ten sets of eyes blinked at her.
The words were too large. She berated herself. “A potion that will make us live forever.”
Cheers lifted to the ceiling and smothered Aisling in excitement. The children had no families to provide for them, or if they did, they weren’t families who had regular food or a safe place to spend the night.
It took a witch to feed the poor, and she certainly didn’t mind.
Aisling adjusted the many layers of clothing that obscured her body from view. She’d learned early in life that a lovely woman alone was bound to attract trouble. And though she had wished for ugliness, she was not an ugly woman.
Once the long sleeves covered her hands, she cleared her throat. “Now, the elixir will need to set until the moon has risen. Shall we gather around the fire?”
The shyest girl of the bunch bit her lip and quietly asked, “For a story?”
“If that is what you wish.”
Tiny bodies fell over each other as the children rushed toward the hearth. Aisling held her breath, hoping none of them tripped or hurt themselves.
The hut she lived in was hardly a home. The rotted thatch roof revealed glimpses of the moon peeking through as it listened to her tales. Dirt smeared the floor from wall to wall, the sturdy planks long since ripped up for firewood, and the hearth itself was cracked from floor to ceiling. But it was home, and no one in town remembered it existed.
That was enough.
She settled onto a small stool as the children gathered around her. Once they were in a dirty pile, they stared at her expectantly.
“What do you want to hear tonight?”
“Everything!” the most freckled little girl shouted.
“Not everything,” Aisling chuckled. “We won’t be able to eat our elixir.”
“Fine”—she sighed—“then tell us a love story.”
One boy lifted his head, outraged. “Not a love story!”
Aisling shook her head as the children argued. It was the same every night. The girls wanted to hear a romance, the boys wanted to listen to an adventure, and no matter how much she tried to accommodate them both, someone always ended up disappointed.
She glanced toward the sky in exasperation and watched a dark shadow cross over the moon. Wings spread wide, the raven hovered above them for only a moment then disappeared. It was unusual for a raven to fly at night, and it inspired an old tale.
“I’ll tell you a story from my childhood,” she began. “Back when I lived on the streets, just like you.”
“You lived on the streets?” a boy asked, a drop of something gooey stuck to his forehead. “But you’re a witch!”
“Even witches have simple beginnings. Perhaps someday I shall teach you how to be a witch as well.”
He wiggled in excitement.
Aisling grinned and tugged her sleeves over her hands again. “There was a legend, long ago, of a faerie who looked after children like us. We called him Fiach Dubh Ri, the Raven King.
“He was a monstrous being and King of the Underfolk, those whose names we never utter for fear they will take our souls in the night.” She held a hand to her mouth and whispered the Underfolk’s true name, “Sluagh.”
The children gasped, their eyes widened, and they flinched back in fear of the word.
Playing into her tale, she leaned forward while shaking her head. “And I would not risk your journey home, children, so I would never say the word.” Aisling winked, then continued her story “He rules their ranks with an iron fist, but let them play whenever they wish.
“Such creatures will suck the soul from your chest before you are given last rites. They listen for those who have lost all hope so they might coerce them into the shadows. They’ll steal you back to Underhill with them, deep inside the earth, beneath the faerie mounds.”
A hand touched her foot. “Is the king a bad man?”
“No, though many may argue with me. He lets his subjects run wild, but Fiach Dubh Ri looks after children like us. All we have to do is call his name, and he will come to our rescue.”
“Have you ever seen him?” asked the boy who always questioned her.
“I have. When I was young, a boy like you called out for Fiach Dubh Ri. His father beat him every night until his ribs were black and blue. One night was worse than the others. He lay on the floor, holding his sides and wondering when death would take him. Then he cried out for the Raven King to come and save him.” She curled her hands into fists. “I’ve seen nothing like it before. The king arrived in a flock of ravens. They were swift and cold, their beaks flashing like swords in the night, until his father’s last breath rattled in the air. They freed him from years of cruelty, leaving nothing behind but a single black feather.”
She left out most of the details. None of the children would sleep if she told them the ravens pecked out the father’s eyes and then vanished as if they never existed. The son had wondered if it really happened until he awoke and saw the body still cold on the floor.
“You must be careful invoking his name,” she advised. “He is a powerful faerie who will extract a high price.”
“I thought making deals with faeries was bad?”
“It is.” She nudged a few of her fingers into view, their tips tattooed black. “And if you intend to make deals, then you need to take precautions.”
A little girl reached out and took her hand. She pulled it out of the folds of fabric, turning it upside down to reveal the tattooed eyes on Aisling’s palms. “What are these?”
“Protection against the Fae.”
“Why do you need to be protected?”
Aisling bit her tongue to prevent the words from coming out.
Because she knew what cruelty the faeries were capable of and so that they could never find her. Because she was a bad woman and not a single one of these children should be inside her house.
But she didn’t want to scare them away. She collected poor souls, and these were the rarest of all. The children glowed with innocence like fireflies in the night. If she could, Aisling would have bottled them up and kept them on her shelf. They reminded her that life could be good if she only remembered the possibilities.
She curled her fingers to her palm and drew her hand away from the little girl. “That’s a story for another time.”
A scrabbling sound came from the window. Graceless and clumsy, an overly large black cat clambered up onto the windowsill and let out a dramatic sigh.
“Hello there, Lorcan. Did you catch anything for supper?” Aisling asked.
He stared at her with a severe expression then glared at the children. They knew better than to pet him. A few had battle scars from the ferocious creature’s claws.
“Aisling,” a little girl asked, “does he want us to go?”
She met the cat’s gaze, and he slowly nodded.
Narrowing her eyes, she replied, “Yes, I think he does. Which way, Lorcan?”
He nodded toward the back exit. It was the secret way to leave her home, only used when absolutely necessary. By telling her to send the children that way, he also warned her danger was near.
Aisling burst to her feet. “Come along, children. I apologize we won’t have any elixir tonight, but I’ll keep it warm for tomorrow. If there is no light in the hut, you know not to come.�
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A small flap of leather covered the hole in the back wall. She lifted it so each child could slip through the crack, their bodies small enough to flee.
The last little girl, an angelic thing with a dandelion puff of blond hair but who was much too thin, hesitated and glanced up. “Is everything all right, Aisling?”
She saw the worry in the little girl’s eyes and didn’t know how to make it better. “Go on now. And if you run into trouble, call for Fiach Dubh Ri to help, yes?”
“Will you call for him tonight?”
Aisling was considering it, but didn’t want to frighten the child. “Off with you!”
The little girl darted out of the house and chased after her friends. Their feet were silent as they raced through the woods. Aisling couldn’t hear them, even when they were right next to her home.
She whirled and glared at the cat sidhe sitting on her windowsill. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
“How can you like those things? They’re disgusting.” Lorcan jumped off the ledge, hit the ground with an audible thump, and waltzed through the hut like he owned the place. A bright white starburst on his chest caught the light, glimmering when he passed through a shadow.
“They’re cold and hungry. Do you expect them to wash in the stream just in case they might see you here?”
“It would be appreciated.”
“They aren’t here to see you.”
He sat and licked a paw. “Well they aren’t here for you either. They’re here for your ‘elixir,’ and that is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s just a bit of fun.”
