Ghalien: A Novel of the Otherworld

by Johnson, Jenna Elizabeth

  "Hold on," Devlin said, jolting me to a halt and pulling me away from my thoughts.

  "What is it?" I cast over my shoulder. I was standing several feet above him on the trail. Beyond the jagged pillars of stone that kept us from falling down the mountainside, I could see the entire valley we had crossed the day before, and spread out like a deep green sea in the far distance was the Weald. The light had grown dimmer, but a nearly full moon rose over the valley to the east, spilling its silvery light on the silent scene.

  Devlin lifted his hand and gently brushed the trunk of the nearest pine. I took a few steps and moved closer, narrowing my eyes against the encroaching darkness. Four deep gouge marks had ripped the thick layer of bark away. The marks were too deep and wide to belong to any bear.

  "Draghan," I breathed, apprehension prickling down my spine.

  Devlin nodded. "A few days old. Its magic lingers, but barely. We don't need to worry for tonight, but who can say when it will be back through?"

  Despite Devlin's assurance that we were safe for the time being, the two of us quickened our pace. A few minutes later the older O'Brolaigh brother picked up the trail of some mountain birds and before full dark had set in, we were traipsing back to the campsite with plenty to eat for everyone.

  "What took you two so long?" Rhyne asked once we arrived.

  His brother shot him an accusing look. "We found evidence of the draghan."

  Enorah and Fenrah, who had been cleaning their weapons, froze and trained their eyes on us. The only thing that moved for several seconds was the fire, its flames dancing as if to tease us into speaking.

  My sister, always the practical thinker, spoke first, "What evidence?"

  "Claw marks on a tree trunk, and some trampled brush," I said.

  "And a two-day old trail of magic," Devlin added.

  "Should we move camp?" Fenrah asked, reaching for her bow.

  "No. The draghan has moved on. We should be safe for tonight."

  Despite my reassurance, all five of us ate a little more quietly that evening and went to bed early, not bothering with trading tales. We also kept watch in pairs, just in case the draghan, or any other dangerous mountain beast, should find our party particularly interesting. Enorah and I were the first to volunteer, so we fixed ourselves mugs of strong tea and took up a post just outside the boundary of our camp. As the hours passed, we sat talking quietly and catching up. I never knew when I'd have an opportunity to visit my sister again, so I would take advantage of the time we had.

  "So, tell me more about our companions."

  Enorah took a slow breath and considered the mug of tea in her hand. It had long since gone cold, so she gathered a little pebble of her glamour and reheated it. I followed suit, watching the steam from both her cup and mine dance in the moonlit air.

  "Well, Fenrah has lived with us since she was young. Like many of our people, she was left on the outskirts of the Weald. When she reached adulthood she was offered the choice to remain or leave to seek her own life. She decided to stay, something I'm immensely grateful for. She has proven her worth on many occasions and also helps train the younger ones."

  I had gathered as much from what I'd already observed of the Faelorehn woman.

  "How about the O'Brolaigh brothers?"

  "What would you like to know?"

  "I already know they are Lorehnin."

  Enorah considered me with shrewd eyes. "Noticed that, did you? Was it the fact that their eyes don't change like ours?"

  I shook my head and smiled. "Yes, and no. I did notice that their eyes didn't seem to shift, but it was after Devlin's admission that it made sense."

  My sister had been taking a sip of her tea but spit it out after hearing my explanation. "He told you?"

  I wanted to laugh at the look on her face, instead I rolled one shoulder and answered, "I don't think he wanted to. It just came up in conversation."

  Enorah didn't seem to believe me, so I elaborated. "I was asking him about how he came to live in the Weald and when he explained that his mother was dead, I inquired after his father. He told me he lived in the mortal world."

  Enorah looked away and stared across the mountain trail and out into the wide open space above the valley. She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck.

  "They were a mess when they came stumbling into the village. Both of them skin and bones, their clothes filthy and threadbare."

  She looked up at me with sad eyes. "Rhyne was unconscious with a dangerously high fever, and his brother was exhausted from carrying him for so long."

  I could imagine Enorah's reaction to seeing them. She would have taken them right in, no questions asked, and more likely than not would have stayed by Rhyne's bed as he recovered. The life my sister had lived before taking up her position as caregiver of the Wildren of the Weald would have driven her to bleed for anyone in need . . .

  I turned to Enorah, hoping to change the subject, but before I could introduce a new topic, she murmured, "The Morrigan killed their mother."

  A sliver of ice formed at the base of my throat and slid into my stomach. There was usually only one reason the Morrigan killed another Faelorehn: to draw their glamour from them.

  I cleared my throat. "She must have been very powerful then."

  Enorah nodded. "From what Devlin and Rhyne have told me, she was incredibly rich in glamour. But not enough to stop the Morrigan."

  I sneered, taking a swig of my tea and tasting only its bitterness. "Few are."

  "So," I said, ready to move on to more pleasant things before we had time to think too much about the sadistic goddess who, on some level, controlled both our lives, "Devlin seems like a nice, upstanding fellow."

  Enorah arched an eyebrow and gave me an incredulous look. "A nice upstanding fellow? What are you getting at, dear brother?"

  "Oh, I don't know, now that I've found my inappropriate female companion, I thought you might be on the lookout for your own. Are you sure you didn't bring him along so that you might find a chance to sneak off into the woods together? He seems like he might be your type."

  Enorah shoved me and I almost fell off of the rock I'd been perched on. Unfortunately, in order to keep my balance, I had to throw my arm wide and I ended up spilling lukewarm tea all down the front of my cloak.

  "Don't be ridiculous, Cade," my sister said in mock-outrage. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "You know very well I prefer the troubled, dark, mysterious types."

  She smiled, but it was a sad smile. Then she added, almost to herself, "The truth is, I don't think I have a type."

  Suddenly, my light mood darkened. So much for not dwelling on the past. Enorah retreated into herself again, old memories rising like a black cloud and threatening to block out any joy. She didn't have to tell me this, I could see it in her eyes, despite the dark shadows cast by the trees around us.

  I opened my mouth to say something, anything to break her out of this spell, but she beat me to it.

  "Why do you think your Meghan is an inappropriate companion?"

  The question caught me by surprise, so it took me a while to come up with an answer.

  "Because," I sighed, "I am the son of the goddess who is trying to kill her. And I turn into a monster when my anger gets the better of me."

  "Is that all?" Enorah asked, crossing her arms once again and sitting up straight.

  I hated having this particular conversation with her, but at least some of that darkness and self-loathing had left her eyes. I almost laughed when I thought about it. Look at the two of us, I wanted to say. Two pathetic souls who wished they could erase their past, and the memories of it, trying to comfort and convince the other that they were too hard on themselves. What a mess the pair of us were.

  "No," I finally admitted. "I am not convinced of her feelings yet, and there is the issue of her parentage."

  I planned on visiting the Dagda in the near future, to see if he had found out any more information since the last time I had asked him about
Meghan. I feared that if she was the daughter of someone prominent, like a member of a Tuatha De's court, then more likely than not, she would be kept away from me. Everyone knew who I was in Eile, and most of them, save for the Dagda and Lugh, kept me at a distance. Yes, they respected me because of my father and because I often aided them when not on an errand for the Morrigan, but would they ever allow me to court the daughter of one of their loyal vassals? Absolutely not.

  "Cade, I'm sure she isn't the daughter of some important noble. There are plenty of common Faelorehn out there with very powerful glamour. Besides, you yourself are the offspring of one of the Tuatha De."

  I opened my mouth to remind her that I was the son of the most loathsome of the Tuatha De, but she lifted her hand and cut me off. "You could be considered noble blood yourself, so I don't think bloodlines should be of any concern."

  I took a deep breath, hoping she was right.

  "And as for the other issue," she eyed me up and down and gestured toward me with her hand, "how could any girl resist this?"

  I gave my sister a poisonous glare and she merely laughed. After that, once the icy film of our dark memories was shattered, we recalled stories and tales that focused only on subjects that lightened our heavy hearts. When Fenrah and Devlin woke to relieve us of our duty, they found the two of us in stitches, Enorah giggling and me holding back my own laughter. The two of them shared wary looks, but that only made my sister and I chuckle even harder. Fortunately, all of the good humor had worn me out and I fell fast asleep once I settled within my bedroll, my mood so light even the Morrigan couldn't invade my thoughts with her hatred.

  * * *

  The morning broke clear and beautiful, with the golden light of the sun painting the mountains a pale lavender grey. Rhyne fixed us a warm breakfast, something he insisted on doing now that his injured leg made him more of a hindrance than a help, according to him. Once we had doused the fire and cleared our camp, we were climbing up the trail once more. The Amsihr Mountains seemed to continue on forever eastward, but Enorah was certain that we would come upon the dwelling place of the Amsihria soon, and she was proven correct a few hours past mid-day.

  After climbing uphill through patches of evergreen trees, short, shrubby brush and piles of large, broken rocks, we finally came upon a flat ledge that was bordered by a sheer cliff on one side and a grove of high mountain aspen on the other. The path continued on up through the white-barked trees and a narrow ribbon of water tumbled down the incline, cutting under the path where someone had built a bridge.

  The five of us came to a complete stop as our eyes traveled up the facade of what could only be the domain of the Amsihria. A sturdy wall of stone, painstakingly constructed by something other than nature, curved out toward us. A circular seal of sorts, one consisting of several symbols, took up most of the space on the front of the wall, while a set of stairs led from both its ends. The mouth of a large cavern perched behind the crenellation decorating the wall and long streamers of sheer fabric in greys, violets and blues hung from the roof of the cave's opening, flowing in the wind like languid banners. They reminded me of the gown Meghan had worn in my dream and I had to shake my head to dislodge the image. As much as I had appreciated that part of my vision, the last thing I wanted was to conjure up the horror it had turned into.

  A dark haired woman dressed in a long, flowing robe of pale grey emerged from the cavern entrance and came to stand at the edge of the wall. She looked older than most Faelorehn and I recalled what Enorah had said about the Amsihria having mortal blood in their ancestral lines.

  My travel companions and I stood still as she scrutinized us, one at a time, her gaze seeming to linger longest on me. I ground my molars together and fought the urge to shift my weight. I often received this sort of perusal, I had a reputation after all, but something about this woman's inspection unnerved me. Eventually, her eyes moved back to my sister.

  "Enorah of the Weald," she said in a strong, carrying voice. "The Maithar has been expecting you and your party."

  Those pale eyes returned to mine. I tightened my jaw and returned the shrewd gaze. Unnerving or not, I would not break under the pressure. I had survived so many of the Morrigan's similar expressions of power, after all.

  A tiny smile, nearly indiscernible, touched the woman's lips.

  Ah little Caedehn, looks like this one and her kin will be giving you some trouble. Excellent.

  The sudden intrusion of my mother's shil-sciar voice threw me off balance, but only for a moment.

  Nothing I can't handle, I growled back.

  I wondered why now of all times she decided to speak with me instead of sending perverse images. As her disturbing laughter echoed in my mind, I shook my head and instead focused on the Amsihria woman above us.

  "On behalf of the Maithar and all the Amsihria, I, Darah Caleana, the Maithar's second in command, welcome you to our realm. Please, do enter our sacred cavern."

  Caleana gestured toward the staircase to her left. Enorah nodded and moved in that direction. I followed the others, always checking the Maithar's Darah. She still watched me, her eyes roving as if she were examining a horse she hoped to purchase. Or considering a dangerous predator she suspected of violence. A low fire began in the pit of my stomach, anger and irritation combining into one. So, she expected to see my battle fury, did she? She was welcome to. As soon as we found the accursed draghan.

  Once we'd stepped through the entrance, I heard many of my companions gasp. I couldn't blame them. Before us stretched a vast stone hall, easily a hundred yards long and ten yards high, composed of a beautiful violet and pink quartz. Two lines of women, all ranging in age and height but all with dark hair, lined both sides of the hall. Their robes were similar to Caleana's, the only difference being that they were a much darker grey than the Darah's. The Maithar's second in command led us to the end of the long, spacious hall where a throne of sorts had been crafted out of the quartz. Tall, narrow windows had been carved out along the entire left side of the hallway and the day's light poured in like warm spring water. This place was so much different than my mother's dark, death-inspiring palace.

  The woman standing on the dais before the great stone chair must be the Maithar. She, too, had long dark hair, but a narrow streak of pale grey fell to one side. Her robe was even lighter than Caleana's and two slashes of fabric, both a pale, shimmery violet blue fell from her shoulders and trailed to the ground. She was the tallest of all the women present, but only the height of the dais put her head above mine. Standing on flat ground I was certain she would only reach my shoulder. Her eyes, as pale as everyone else's, considered us as we made our way forward. Ice prickled at the base of my neck and I took a slow, deep breath. Her scrutiny was even more intense than the Darah's.

  Darah Caleana held up a hand for us to stop walking as she moved forward and climbed the dais. I resisted the urge to look to my right and catch Enorah's eye. I had a feeling that Fenrah and the O'Brolaigh brothers were doing the same. As we waited, Caleana leaned forward and whispered something into the Maithar's ear. I watched as the woman's clear grey eyes narrowed and fell onto me. Again, that prickling feeling started at the base of my neck.

  I wonder what they see in you, dear Caedehn, the Morrigan murmured into my mind, to gaze at you so intensely.

  Her intention was to make me uncomfortable. I refused to comply.

  I have come to dispatch the draghan. Surely, they are wondering about my skill as a warrior and are recalling my ability to utilize riastrad.

  The Morrigan's chuckle ricocheted inside my head like a stone in an empty well, but apparently she was finished tormenting me for the moment because she fell silent after that.

  Caleana stopped speaking with the Maithar and stepped aside, facing us alongside her superior.

  "So," the Maithar spoke, her voice even more commanding than Caleana's, "this is the band of warriors Cernunnos has sent to save us from the dreaded draghan."

  She smiled and for a second
the iciness left her face.

  "I am Enorah of the Weald," my sister said, taking a step forward. "This is Fenrah of the Weald and Rhyne and Devlin O'Brolaigh."

  She gestured toward those she named off and each gave the Maithar a short bow. During these introductions, the young women lining the hall had remained silent. I wondered how long it would be before they started fidgeting. Then again, their discipline must be rock solid. I couldn't imagine much nonsense, if any, was permitted in these halls.

  "And this is Caedehn MacRoich, my brother."

  Snapping out of my curiosity, I turned my eyes toward the Maithar and gave her a quick bow. She returned it, a look of amused interest gleaming in her eyes.

  "Pleased to meet you all. I am Jarda, Grand Maithar of the Amsihria. Welcome to our home."

  Her greeting was echoed by the hundred or more women lining the hallway. The power of their combined voices reverberating throughout the vast chamber.

  "Come. Let us get you settled into your rooms, and then it will be time for the evening meal."

  The Maithar clapped her hands and called out, "Anda, Rania, can you please show our guests to their quarters?"

  Two young girls, looking no older than fifteen, stepped away from the line of women and gave a quick curtsey before turning abruptly to head down a hallway veering off to the right. Enorah turned and arched her eyebrow at us before following after the acolytes. Without so much as a word, the rest of us followed suit.

  "Someone will come fetch you when the meal is ready, so feel free to relax until then," the Maithar called after us.

  The hallway we traveled down was much narrower and had a lower ceiling than the entrance hall. As we walked, our footsteps filled the otherwise empty chamber and to pass the time I began counting the wooden doors we passed. Above and between each door an oculus of light glowed like the eye of some magic-enveloped beast. I could only imagine that these openings were the ends of more tunnels carved into the stone to bring in the light from the outside.