Lorehnin: A Novel of the Otherworld

by Johnson, Jenna Elizabeth

  A soft snort from Moira, then a lengthy pause where all I could hear was the whisper of the torch flames. I could feel their eyes roving over me, and I wanted so desperately to squirm, but then they’d know I was awake.

  “Her glamour will be vast and fierce,” Mikael finally continued. “We must act now, Moira, before that hound of Danua’s finds her.”

  I pictured Moira rolling her eyes at that. “Are you afraid of that little half-breed forest dweller? His glamour is hardly strong enough to squash a mosquito. He is no match for either of us.”

  A sharp intake of breath from Moira’s section of the cave suggested that her brother had turned on her.

  “Do not underestimate the wrath of a man in love, especially a Faelorehn one! He may not be pure-blooded, but he will fight to the death and his strength will be magnified because of it,” he growled. “We do this now.”

  I did not have time to consider his words because in the next breath the soft swish of a knife being drawn from a leather sheath grated against my ears. Fear spiked through me again, and when the cold, sharp metal pricked my arm, I could not hide my gasp of shock. I glanced down, straining my neck, only to find a small puncture wound that oozed blood.

  “She awakens. We must act swiftly before she comes around completely. Go make ready the instruments.”

  Mikael’s voice was flat and emotionless, in harsh contrast to what his tone had been when he had tried to seduce me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted his sister, her face grim and determined. She nodded once, then turned on her heel and headed out of the cave and into another room. Now that they knew I was awake, there was no reason to remain silent.

  “What the hell are you planning on doing to me?” I demanded, my anger nearly matching my terror.

  Mikael ignored me and moved to tighten whatever chains or leather straps held my hands down. For a few seconds I had a little bit of freedom with my right arm so I lashed out, raking my fingernails against his skin. Mikael hissed and leapt back.

  “Bitch!” he snarled before striking me across the face.

  My cheek exploded with pain and I cried out. Bastard! He’d better make sure I couldn’t escape or my fingernails would be the least of his worries.

  Once I’d regained a modicum of my composure I snarled, “I asked you a question, asshole!”

  A deep chuckle filled the cold, damp space, and I shivered.

  “Such a sharp tongue you have, Robyn dearest. It’s a shame we couldn’t make things work between us.”

  He stepped out of the shadows and ran a finger gently down the side of my face where he’d slapped me.

  “I wouldn’t mind discovering what else you could do with that tongue of yours.”

  “You’re a sick bastard,” I spat, praying that he’d move his hand closer to my mouth so I could bite it.

  “And you’re an easy source of glamour,” he countered, moving away. “Do you have any idea what you are?”

  I tugged at my restraints but it was no use. I was pinned down like an insect in some entomologist’s macabre little collection.

  “I’m just a mortal with strong earthly magic,” I managed, a little bit of my fierceness wearing off.

  Mikael laughed again. “Oh, that Lorehnin fool was so obsessed with wheedling out my glamour that he never gave yours a close enough look.”

  That couldn’t be true. Devlin had done a thorough examination of my glamour and had proclaimed it earthbound.

  “So what do you plan to do? Sacrifice me to the Morrigan in the hopes that you can get a little more of her magic?”

  I craned my neck again and caught the glint of white teeth flashing beneath a dark hood. The sight was positively sinister.

  “Oh, something like that,” Mikael crooned with a wave of his hand. “So much of her glamour waits me in the Otherworld, but there are also so many like my sister and I, scrambling to get to it while remaining out of the sight of the high queen and her allies.”

  “And you wish to bolster your power by squeezing what magic you can from my world in order to give yourselves a fighting chance,” I said with bitterness.

  “Clever girl,” he said, his voice clipped with slight annoyance. “But not clever enough to realize you were being played the entire time.”

  The Daramorr was wrong. I’d had a pretty good idea I was being played, and so did Devlin. We just had no idea when the trap would be sprung, or how.

  I blinked my eyes, feeling grit gathering in the corners. The amplified scrapes and clunks of Mikael’s preparations made me squirm, and the abrasions on my wrists and ankles burned with discomfort.

  “What does Taeriehl mean?” I finally asked. I’d heard him mention it earlier, and I was hoping to distract him and delay whatever fate awaited me. Maybe in that time, I’d think of a way out of this. Yeah right.

  Mikael either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me, because the next time he spoke it wasn’t to answer my question.

  “Now, Robyn dear, as much as I enjoy toying with you our time is running out.”

  He moved further into the shadows, and a breath of icy air poured through the cavern as if an army of haunted souls exhaled all at once. Raw panic filled my veins, and I started to take the whole struggling thing seriously.

  Before I could so much as scream my fear and fury, Mikael started uttering a strange chant, the cadence of his voice and the flickering shadows cast by firelight only adding to the ghastly aura of the cavern. He picked up three black feathers and arranged them on my stomach, each one pointing outward in a different direction. The movement tickled, and when I jerked to the side, causing one feather to dislodge and float to the ground, he calmly picked it up and replaced it. I realized then that my wrists and ankles weren’t going anywhere and the black leather belt across my middle was doing a splendid job at keeping my hips in place. This could not be happening. It had to be a dream.

  I wrenched my head to the side, not caring about the pain, and fixed my eyes upon my tormentor. Mikael was draped in a black robe, the hood now thrown back and his cruel, handsome face half cloaked in shadow. He had another feather in his hand, and as I watched, he dipped it into a shallow dish formed out of what appeared to be obsidian. He lifted the feather, the end dripping with something wet and dark. I swallowed hard. Blood. He touched the feather to my skin and began painting a gruesome pattern on my legs, abdomen and arms, the tip resting over the storm cloud tattoo below my elbow. Despite my determination to remain brave, I could feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I tried thrashing again, pulling so hard against my restraints that the metal and leather cut into my skin.

  Mikael ceased his low chanting. “Resistance will not help you, Robyn. It will only make what is to come worse.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I rasped, my voice catching in my throat. “I am not Faelorehn. I’m not even Lorehnin. You’ve made a huge mistake. Please, just let me go!”

  Mikael ignored me and continued his preparations, walking over to a basin cut into the side of the cavern to wash his hands. Moira returned then, carrying a tray of smoking incense in one hand and a curved blade in the other. A flash of white caught my eye, and a sour taste filled my mouth when I recognized the wolf standing by her side. Its twin joined her, and the two animals nipped at each other playfully before Moira’s harsh command sent them from the room.

  The sudden, sharp scent of the smoke made me think of death and suffering, and the cruel knife brought back memories of that night I had interrupted the Noctyrnum’s little torture party. Despite my determination to stay strong, bile crawled up my throat.

  The Daramorr and his sister held their hands over me and began a new chant, this one starting out low and growing into something fiercer, more demanding. I didn’t know what the purpose of their invocation was, but it grated against my nerves. My skin started to prickle everywhere, and my fingertips and toes began to grow numb. I assumed it was from being chained to a nearly frozen rock for so long, but then a pale violet shimmer
formed over my skin; a weird, hallucinogenic ripple of weightless water. Perhaps this is what happens when you die, I thought miserably. Perhaps this is that light at the end of the tunnel everyone always talks about. I blinked down at my arm again, watching the enchanting play of light.

  Soon the tingling sensation grew to an almost painful level, and Mikael’s and Moira’s voices took on an urgent, excited tone. The two of them clasped hands, and I realized they were now both holding the knife. Slowly, they lifted it far above their heads.

  I should have been screaming in terror, but I was far too distracted by the purple plasma covering my body. Now it was doing something even more bizarre. Tiny arcs, reminiscent of the solar flares on the surface of the sun, bridged up from my skin and burst like little bubbles. Mikael and his sister only seemed to grow more delighted at this, but the knife stayed right where it was, far above their heads.

  My body sizzled with prickly sensation, and the arcs multiplied until my gaze was blurred from their beautiful brilliance. Some of the flares even began to grow bolder, shooting out into space like electrical charges instead of placid bubbles. Now that was really odd.

  This seemed to be the cue Mikael and Moira were waiting for, because they both drew in a deep breath and plunged the knife downward. After that, time stilled to almost a stop. The knife arced slowly through the air as the siblings ended their chant. The violet electricity enwrapping my body reached to meet the blade, the sensation akin to two negative magnets being forced together. And beyond everything that was happening on the stone slab, I swore I could hear anguished shouting starting somewhere far away and moving ever closer.

  Just as the knife plunged into my skin, a flash of brilliant amethyst light filled the cavern and seared my eyes. Moira screamed and Mikael roared― in glee or horror I couldn’t tell.

  I drew in one last breath, my chest a giant wad of agony. So this must be what dying felt like. A roaring sound filled my ears, a horrendous noise that reminded me of anger and pain and despair. I could no longer see anything and a cold numbness spread over me, but I could still hear the sounds of a distant battle as I slipped away; the snarl and yelp of animals, the enraged shouts of warriors in the heat of battle, the clash of weapons. Anger, sharp and bitter, infused what blood I had left in my body. If it hadn’t been for the restraints holding me down, and the massive stab wound in my chest, I’d be right there in the midst of it all, finally showing Moira and Mikael what I was made of. Unfortunately, the current circumstances were stacked against me and my inner, ass-kicking demon had to sit this one out.

  A final burst of violet energy seared what senses I had left, and the clamor abruptly stopped. I had no chance to think about it, because the pain lingering in my chest vanished along with all other sensations and I let go.

  * * *

  Light, friendly laughter woke me from my haze. I expected to have a raging headache, but nothing hurt, not even my wrists and ankles where the restraints had been. That was odd. Then it occurred to me that I had died and I was probably in the afterlife, wherever that was. I turned my head and glanced around. The frame of my vision was bordered by soft light, the kind of visual effect a first-year film student might use to portray a flashback scene. Okay, weird, but I was going to try to be open-minded about this whole death thing.

  From the corner of my vision, a small girl no more than two or three came waddling into view. She was pale-skinned with dark, curly hair and a bright smile dominating her tiny face. Following her were a man and woman, both very young and not particularly tall. The woman strode up with the grace of a ballerina and scooped up the small girl, planting a kiss on her grubby cheek.

  It was such a common scene; it could have happened at any park in the country. Yet something about this particular family caught my attention and held it. For a short time, I studied the man. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and he gazed upon the woman and child in outright adoration. I felt a twinge in my chest, and I wondered what it must be like to have a family that showed so much love. The woman turned and glanced at her husband, setting the child down to go tumble in the grass. She reached up her arms and wrapped them around the man’s neck, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Her eyes were grey like mine, and there was some strange birthmark on the inside of her arm.

  Somehow, I managed to move in for a closer look. Why it mattered that I see it, I couldn’t tell. Some other power was compelling me forward. By now, the woman had stepped away from the man and they were standing hand in hand, watching their daughter. The little girl stumbled and fell, and her mother instinctively reached out her arm in a comforting gesture. That’s when I finally got a good look at the blemish just below her elbow. I gasped, if the disembodied spirit of a recently deceased person could do such a thing, and lurched back in surprise. It was a tattoo, not a birthmark, and it matched the one on my arm: three swirls to form the cloud and a few zigzags representing lightning.

  I reached down to rub the spot on my arm where my tattoo was, but my fingers only brushed air. For the first time since this strange dreamscape had appeared, I held my hands up in front of my face. I could see their outline, but there was no substance to them. So, I really was a ghost.

  A sharp squeal pulled my attention back to the family. The girl was sitting on the grass, her face screwed up in outrage, not pain, from her fall. I had to laugh. She reminded me of myself when I was younger. I always attacked the world head-on and was far too stubborn to give in to pain or discomfort.

  The mother cooed at her daughter, picking her up and comforting her despite the child’s determination to be invincible. As much as she tried, however, the girl could not resist her mother’s embrace. Eventually, she wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck and rested her tiny chin on a nurturing shoulder.

  I could have spent all of eternity watching this family, but something else drew my senses, pulling me away from the moment. The fuzzy edges of my vision grew fuzzier, and I tried crying out in protest. Just before the image blipped out completely, the little girl turned her gaze toward me and I nearly choked. My own eyes, brilliant and grey and full of purpose, stared back at me. I had been wandering around in my own memory, and now it was being torn away from me.

  No! I wanted to shout. No! Let me stay with them a little longer, please!

  But it was no use. Whatever divine force now had control of my soul would not heed my pleas and whatever awareness I had left was snuffed out as my world went utterly dark.

  -Twenty-Four-

  Lorehnin

  I woke up only to realize that my mind was completely blank. Usually the remains of some dream teased at the corner of my conscious or the muffled sounds of the outside world greeted me. This time I got nothing, no replay of any strange dreams and none of the familiar noises of my housemates stomping around upstairs. Instead, I found myself staring at a ceiling that wasn’t mine. This one had large log beams running across it, bare wooden planks filling the spaces in between. My eyes trailed the beams and crashed into the stone tower of a chimney. Okay, I knew I didn’t have a fireplace in my basement apartment. A space heater, yes, but definitely not a fireplace.

  The squeak of someone shifting in a chair drew my attention away from the roof. I turned my head toward the sound. Ow! Not only did I have a pounding headache, but my neck hurt like crazy. Had I been in a car accident? Was this the hospital? No, hospitals were painted white and had sparse furnishings. This place I was in was more like a cabin.

  Eventually, my cheek was resting against a pillow and my eyes fell upon someone I didn’t recognize. She sat in a plain wooden chair in the corner, her tall frame stretched out to its full extent. From what I could see, she had curly brown hair and broad shoulders, and she was dressed in clothes similar to what I’d first seen Devlin wearing. Devlin. Suddenly the memories came screeching back, forcing every ounce of strength from my body. I must have made a sound, because the woman shot up from her relaxed pose and moved toward my bed.

  “You’re awake,” she stated,
her tone betraying a trace of relief.

  I tried out my voice and nearly curled in on myself at the harsh sound of it. “Devlin,” I managed.

  The woman pressed a cool palm to my forehead and smoothed her face into a mask of concentration. Her grey-green eyes studied me and I couldn’t help but notice she had that strange beauty that Devlin, Mikael and Moira possessed. Was she Faelorehn? And if so, where had she come from?

  “Devlin was by your side until earlier this morning. He had urgent business and couldn’t stay. Only when I promised to look after you did he leave, and even then it was with great reluctance.”

  A wry smile twisted the woman’s lips, and she went to fetch her chair so that she could sit beside my bed.

  “Where am I?” I croaked. “Who are you?”

  “The Weald and Enorah, in that order. Devlin brought you here as soon as he wrangled you away from the Daramorr and his sister.”

  Enorah? Devlin’s friend from the Otherworld? I felt dizzy, but I had to know what had happened. Enorah proceeded to tell me.

  “The Daramorr had you for a few days before he and his waspish sister tried to extract your glamour. In that time, Devlin returned to the mortal world and realized right away that something was wrong. Your car was still parked where it had been when you dropped him off at the dolmarehn. He tracked your glamour back here. Well, not here specifically, but to one of the many small caverns on the edge of the Weald where Mikael and his sister had been hiding when not stirring up trouble in the mortal world.”

  Enorah’s explanation did nothing to calm my thoughts. I lifted a hand and pressed it to my forehead, wincing when the action caused a searing pain in my chest. Glancing down, I noticed that a good portion of the left side of my torso was wrapped in white bandages. Fear trickled through my blood, and I trained my eyes on Enorah.

  “What happened to me?” I demanded, my voice low and harsh.

  Enorah drew in a long, steady breath. “The short explanation? Mikael and Moira used their glamour to subdue you and drag you back into the Otherworld, where they chained you to a stone slab and attempted to carve out your heart.”