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  Ghalien

  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.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Ghalien

  Copyright © 2013 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

  Contents

  One

  Recollection

  Two

  Penance

  Three

  Sanctuary

  Four

  Recovery

  Five

  Cernunnos

  Six

  Journey

  Seven

  Nightmare

  Eight

  Trouble

  Nine

  Amsihria

  Ten

  Hunt

  Eleven

  Draghan

  Twelve

  Offer

  Thirteen

  Ghalien

  Extra Scenes from Dolmarehn

  A Lesson in Glamour

  The Beltane Party

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Connect with me Online

  Sneak Peek at Faelorehn, Book One of Otherworld Trilogy

  One

  Recollection

  I was dreaming of Meghan when the harsh wave of dark magic tore me from my much-needed sleep. The moment the shock of waking up to such unpleasantness wore off, my anger grew hot and fierce. My dreams were never reminiscent of pleasant memories from the past, for most memories I dared to recall were anything but pleasant. But this one had been joyful and whatever unnatural faelah awaited me outside in the courtyard had ruined it.

  Often when I slept I didn't dream at all, or the dreams would reflect the darkness I spent my time shying away from. Simple charcoal on paper landscapes that held no light or joy. Lately, however, my dreams had stretched and contorted themselves into nightmares, horrific scenes of my mother's monsters tearing people to pieces. No, not people, only one person: Meghan Elam.

  Groaning, I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands and tried to shake the horrors away. How many days had passed since I last saw Meghan? Oh right, just the one. I had left her to heal from the wounds my mother had inflicted upon her. I grimaced. My mother . . . Even thinking of the Morrigan in those terms turned my stomach. She was no more a mother to me than an oak tree was to one of its acorns. As soon as I was born, she cast me aside to fend for myself. That is, until she realized I could be of some use to her. I had, after all, inherited my father's gift of battle fury, something that the Morrigan could use to her advantage. So, she had returned for me in the end. And if it wasn't for my sister, I never would have succumbed to her wishes . . .

  Enough Cade. Those thoughts do you no good, I reminded myself as I rolled over, throwing my legs over the side of the bed in order to sit up.

  "Fergus?" I called out, my throat dry enough to make me choke. Once the coughing fit was over, I remembered that Fergus wasn't with me. He was in the mortal world guarding Meghan.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and drew upon my magic. It hadn't completely returned to me after undergoing my riastrad, but enough of it was there to accomplish my next task.

  Fergus, I sent, the effort of reaching out to my spirit guide across the boundary between our worlds demanding my utmost attention.

  Yes, he responded. Meghan is well. Her injuries are healing and she will rest a few days more before returning to school. Only a small number of faelah linger on this side, and I have been vigilant in my night hunts. None shall harm her.

  Thank you my friend, I sent back, breathing a sigh of relief and letting my magic return to where it resided next to my heart.

  Before I could take much comfort in Fergus's news, however, a wave of cold, evil glamour trickled over my skin. I clenched my teeth as the intrusive feeling left, hissing as the circular tattoo just above my heart burned like a poisonous brand. Almost involuntarily, my arm snaked out and I pressed my palm to my chest, trying to rub the ache away. It was no use. The tattoo had been placed with the Morrigan's magic. All of those she had enslaved bore the same mark. It was her way of keeping track of us as well as keeping us under control. If the tattoo started to hurt, then she was getting impatient. I squinted through the darkness of my room and peered out the far window. Sunrise was probably an hour or two away, judging by the deep, inky blue of the sky. Guess I wasn't sleeping in this morning. Once I set my mind to answering the Morrigan's call, the pain abruptly vanished. I was tempted to lie back down just to see if her magic would do anything to me, but I didn't really feel like playing games with my mother, not this soon after expending my battle fury.

  It took me longer than usual to get dressed. Perhaps it had something to do with my weakened state, but I think it had mostly to do with the fact that despite my misgivings, a part of me was always willing to irritate the Morrigan. Bracing myself, I took a deep breath and looked into the mirror hanging over my bathroom sink, the flicker of candle light banishing some of the early morning darkness. The mirrors of the Otherworld were clearer, somehow more revealing than those in the mortal world, and this one was no exception. It had been a gift from my sister, one of the few fine things I kept in this ruined castle I called home. That little detail would be changing soon, however. Someday, I was going to bring Luathara back to its former glory, but right now I had the consequences of a broken geis to deal with.

  Sighing, I glanced once again at the figure staring back at me and winced. Oh yes, warping into one's battle fury sure did a number on one's appearance. The first thing I noticed were my eyes, their normal changeable green now a dull pond-scum hue underlined by dark circles. My skin was pale and my face thin and drawn taught. I looked centuries older than I truly was. Not that age ever really showed on the Faelorehn, but then not all of us had the gift of transforming into a berserker warrior bent on using every last physical resource to do the most damage possible. Turning away, I shook those thoughts from my mind. I never considered myself a vain person, but there was a difference between vanity and being horrified at what a fierce fight could do to my appearance.

  Grabbing my heavy cloak, I blew out the candles and strode across the room. I didn't bother making my bed or closing the door behind me. No one ever came here, except for me, and if I delayed the war goddess any longer, she might drive that painful magic deeper than the surface of my skin.

  The morning greeted me with thick fog, wisps of it shredding away from the treetops and raining down in streamers of damp gray. I guess it had taken me longer than I thought to get ready, because I could tell from the dim light that the sun h
ad begun to rise somewhere in the east. Bracing myself, I descended the stone steps and headed toward the opposite end of the courtyard. About halfway to my destination a low, demanding cackle split the air, forcing my heart up into my throat. I spun around, my eyes darting around the crumbling courtyard walls. I expected to find a large black raven watching me from somewhere, so when my gaze fell upon a huge white bird, a slight prick of surprise stabbed at me.

  The bird tilted its head and regarded me with one eye, the eye that hadn't been damaged in some battle long ago. It gave another one of those blood-chilling caws and then ruffled its feathers and shook, waiting for my next move.

  "Tell your mistress I'm on my way," I growled as my hands balled into fists.

  The white raven gave another croak before flapping its wings and disappearing into the mist. As it headed east, I could have sworn it was laughing at me.

  Speirling was waiting for me in the field, his dark ears pricked forward as he sensed my approach. Letting out a deep whinny, he tossed his head and dug at the damp earth. My misgivings melted away as my mouth curved into a smile. My fingers found Speirling's velvet nose, and I was further comforted by his positive thoughts.

  "You're always looking on the bright side, aren't you?" I murmured, pressing my forehead to his.

  I didn't bother saddling him, since I was running late already and since I didn't really need a saddle. A swift pace and five dolmarehn crossings later, Speirling and I found ourselves at the foot of the eastern mountains and on the threshold of the Morrigan's underground fortress. Taking a deep breath that coated my lungs with ice, I slid from Speirling's back and ordered him to take refuge where he could. No horse should ever have to cross into the Morrigan's territory, let alone follow me down the haunted crevasse that waited several yards ahead. Wrapping my wool-lined cloak tightly around me, I took the first step down a path that would surely lead to pain. Every instinct I possessed, and believe me I possessed more than the average Faelorehn, bit and clawed and chewed at me to turn around and flee. I could have, in fact I would have been smart to turn and forget the Morrigan and her evil demands. My geis was broken and she had decided not to kill me, not yet at least. But if I disobeyed her now, the first thing she'd do wouldn't involve coming after me. No, she'd aim straight for Meghan and kill her, or worse.

  Calling on my glamour to help fight my anxiety, I trudged on, kicking aside broken skulls and fighting the shivering chill that coursed through me. Forever, it seemed, I walked. The walls grew steeper, the skeletons and mummified flesh of long dead animals became more frequent. Fortunately, the air was so cold it kept most of the stench at bay, but every so often a small breeze would stir up the scent of death and rot and I'd have to pause and swallow several times in order to keep from getting sick.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, I reached the end of the narrow valley. A great stone doorway complete with a skull-studded border, loomed before me. On the branches of two dead, bleached oak trees perched three or four dozen ravens, all hunkered down against the cold, their stark blackness contrasting greatly against their bleak white and pale gray surroundings. Not one of them uttered a sound or ruffled a feather. Then, just as I reached up to touch the ogham letters adorning the stone doorway, one of the ravens let out a grumbling caw, setting all the others off. I shot a glance upward, narrowing my gaze at the raven I hadn't seen before. He was so pale that he'd blended in with the ashy rock behind him.

  "Alahníl," I said, remembering the name of my mother's spirit guide.

  Just then, a deep rumbling sound rolled up from the earth and the door cracked open, exhaling a frozen breath of fear and death. I got my panic and the overwhelming urge to shiver under control before I looked back up at the white raven.

  "I take it you told the Morrigan of my arrival," I stated more than asked.

  All I got in return was a self-satisfied grumble. Forgetting the birds, I turned and faced the yawning darkness before me. I had no idea how long the tunnel was, or if there was a tunnel at all. Like many of the caves found in Eile, this one was a dolmarehn. But instead of leading to another part of Eile or even to the mortal world or some other realm beyond our own, this one led directly into the Morrigan's cavern. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and stepped into the darkness, asking myself if I was making the right choice and wondering what horrible, unconscionable thing my mother would have me do for her next.

  Two

  Penance

  The dolmarehn didn't take me all the way to the foot of the Morrigan's throne. I was dropped at a crossroads of sorts, deep in the heart of the mountain, or so I assumed. Having taken this path more times than I'd like to remember, I knew where each of the tunnels led, and not one of them led somewhere pleasant. Grinding my teeth together, I rearranged my cloak once again and stepped forward, the torchlight making the sconces that held them look like retracting claws pushing out to impale me. The sound of my boot heels cracking upon the stone echoed against the vasiform passage, and the incessant dripping and distant cries of some wretched soul didn't help ease my trepidation. By the time I reached the great chamber that was my mother's throne room, my nerves were wrung tight and the barest flicker of firelight had me jumping out of my skin. After all the years of making this same walk and entering this same chamber, you would think I could handle this.

  For several moments I merely stood there, my hands on my thighs, my head hanging loose from my shoulders and just breathed. I would have preferred the crisp air of Eile over the stench of the Morrigan's domain, but I wasn't about to be picky at this point. As soon as I got my panic under control, I lifted my head and stared across the massive chamber. Perhaps a hundred feet wide and nearly twice as tall, I could see why the Morrigan would choose this as her castle. It had all the features that a morbid goddess could ask for: glistening stalactites and stalagmites that resembled teeth in a closing maw, a small stream of dark water and the creaking voices of Otherworldly bats and other nightmare-inspiring faelah calling out from every nook and crevice. Despite the morbidity of my current setting, at least my mother had the decency to make the place somewhat welcoming. Rich dark red and gold fabric hung from various ledges and an enormous indention carved right into the back wall served as a fireplace. More gold and black candelabra and even an intricate chandelier brightened up the cave.

  "So, you've made it at last, and with the morning only halfway gone."

  Adopting an expression of distaste, I turned to face the great throne located near the far end of the room. The Morrigan sat there, as relaxed as a lioness after a large meal, but looking as if she had room for more. Shoving that dreadful thought away, I straightened my posture as best as I could. No reason to appear weak before my tormentor.

  "Might I remind you that I reside on the opposite end of Eile, and dolmarehn or no dolmarehn, it takes time to travel this far."

  "Then you should have left the night before," she sniffed as she stood up, her movements as graceful and deadly as a viper's.

  I clenched my jaw and fought against the stirring of my magic. Oh yes, my riastrad always begged me to let it break free when in the presence of this particular goddess, but considering I was still recovering from the last episode, staying in my current form would be most wise.

  "Never mind all that," the Morrigan said, flapping her hand around as she approached me, her dark skirts billowing out around her and making the candles and fire flicker in protest. "You are here to make up for that broken geis of yours, and like I told you before, don't get any dreamy ideas about dying. I couldn't possibly spare you now."

  "What do you want?" I snapped, a question I was growing weary of asking.

  Apparently the growl in my voice was a bit too aggressive because my mother's hellhounds, her Cumorrig, who had been reclining in front of the fireplace, jerked to attention and bared their carrion-stained teeth.

  Abruptly, the room darkened and the Morrigan's magic flared. The hellhounds yelped and whined. The flames on the walls danced and sputtered, a
nd the cavern trembled, disturbing ancient dust and debris from far up the walls.

  "Only for you to do your duty to your mother!" she hissed.

  My own glamour, instead of quailing like most, rose up to challenge hers. No, we will not win this fight! I reminded it. Gradually, it settled down but my temper remained singed.

  "You are not my mother. You may have given birth to me, but I am not your son."

  She snorted, then laughed. Her voice reverberated through the heart of the mountain, making my skin break out in goose bumps.

  "Oh Caedehn! But that's all that matters! You are flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood. Geis-bound to me the moment you were born! I decided early on that if I was to be burdened with your parasitic presence those long months, and then to suffer the inconvenience of bringing you into this world, then you might as well be of some use to me someday!"

  I batted the stinging words away. Deep down, in the furthest reaches of my soul, it still hurt to know that my mother, the person who should love me above all others, had hated me from the moment she knew of my existence. But, it would do no good to show any weakness now.

  "Then why get rid of me in the first place?" I countered, my throat hoarse from the emotional turmoil and anger that boiled just beneath the surface of my skin.