One
is Come
Five
in Circle Series, Book
1
Author: C.
H. MacLean
Genre: Fantasy,
YA
Publisher: CNH
Publishing
Date of
Publication: February 23, 2014
ASIN: B00IMF6APE
Number of pages:
251
Cover Artist:
Heidi Sutherlin
Book
Description:
One is Come is
the first installment in a YA fantasy saga full of hidden plot twists and
turns. The centuries-old prophesy of the One is being fulfilled, and the
ancient dragon clans are coming out of hiding to remake the world. The king of
the magic users will stop at nothing to be sure the prophecy is fulfilled the
right way--with his oppressive government ruling. As they struggle for power,
Haylwen (14) and her brother Cadarn (16) just happen to be caught dead center.
In this first
book, meet fourteen-year-old Haylwen Rightad. She doesn’t think “crazy” runs in
her family, but she might be wrong. Fish seem to listen when she talks. She
finds herself wearing jewelry she can’t remember putting on. And then there was
the explosion at school…and her ex-principal trying to kidnap her…and her
brother? Don’t even ask. All she wants is to be an ordinary teenager. Live a
normal life. Go to school, make friends, and not have to move a zillion times.
Oh, and getting the bullies off her back? That’d be nice, too.
What Haylwen
doesn’t know is why all this crazy stuff is happening to her. But she’s about
to find out. The bad news? Things aren’t going to be “normal” any time soon!
With a
mysterious prophecy, magical secrets and more than a few dragons, ONE IS COME
is the first book in the adventures of siblings Haylwen and Cadarn as they come
to discover they have powers they never dreamt of — and a destiny only they can
fulfill.
Free on Amazon: January
22-26
Buy Links:
Excerpt
Haylwen
ran. Her knees hurt, her thighs chafed, her belly and boobs jiggled out of
control. Stupid bras were either hideous or didn’t do anything, she thought.
She hated running, and still she ran faster. The pain in her knees and thighs
distracted her from thinking about how sad she felt. Moving again! I wouldn't
even get to tell Kim goodbye! So she ran, and didn’t care how she looked
holding her chest.
She
ran from her stupid parents telling her they were going to move again, knowing
it was all her fault this time. She ran from the fear she would never have any
friends. She ran away from her creepy doll, and the fact that it didn’t matter
that Cadarn’s present was confiscated, it was still so much better. She
couldn’t even really see where she was going, but still she ran. She left the
road and took to a hiking trail.
Maybe
I’d never go back. Maybe I'd get so lost that I couldn’t go back. That would
teach them. Stupid brother would probably be happier without me there. She
finally slowed to a walk when she realized she really had no idea where she
was. She looked back, and around. Where did the hiking trail go? Surrounded by
trees, she heard water trickling nearby. This must be the woods on the other
side of the old train tracks. She didn’t remember crossing train tracks. She
went a bit further, then stopped where the little creek came out of a small
lake. Looking back, it wasn’t really a trail, just happened to be where there
were fewer bushes and ferns, where the tree leaves had collected randomly. She
could be the first one who had ever been here. Struck by a feeling of
loneliness that overwhelmed the last of her anger, she fell to her knees and
cried.
Something
in the lake came up to investigate. As it got closer, it took the form of a
giant catfish. It swam closer to where Haylwen’s tears were falling on the
creek bank. It hesitated for a second, its long antennae slowly waving. Then it
swam up to Haylwen and poked its head up out of the water.
Haylwen
heard the soft sound of the big fish’s head coming out of the water and sat up,
her tears suddenly stopping. “Crap!” she blurted, startled.
The
fish didn’t move, just slowly waved its long antennae.
Haylwen
choked out a laugh of a sort. “Or, carp?”
The
fish just floated there. Somehow its wide mouth and whiskers made it look
solemn.
Haylwen
looked back. “Um, hello?”
Nothing.
But it didn’t swim away. That’s weird, she thought. Or maybe I’ve gone crazy.
“Sorry
if I am disturbing you, Mr. Fish,” she said. Oh, for sure, she was crazy,
talking to a fish. Not that she cared, at this point. Apparently, she was
desperate enough for a friend that even a fish would do, never mind if it
wasn’t a very attentive fish. So, she started talking. Softly, starting with
how she was going to have to move and that it was her fault, somehow. Soon, she
was crying, telling about all the times she had lost friends… well… kids who
could have been friends if she stayed anywhere long enough. About how lonely it
felt to have no friends, and how maybe it would be better if she just didn’t exist.
She had never really said that out loud, never really even thought it out loud
before. She just sat there and sobbed, the tears pouring down her face.
Her
sobs slowed, then stopped. She looked up, and was somehow not surprised to see
the fish was still there, antennae waving calmly. She wiped the tears from her
face, shaking them off her hands with a flick. She saw the tears hit the fish
right between the eyes, heard the soft splat.
The
fish blinked in surprise.
“Oh,
sorry, Mr. Fish,” she said. “But it's water, right?”
The
fish seemed to smile. I am crazy, Haylwen thought. Fish don’t smile. They
can’t. They can’t blink, either, she thought. Well, I don’t think they can
blink. I saw it blink, didn't I?
The
fish turned and swam underwater, disappearing. Haylwen looked for it for a
moment, and was rewarded with a rapidly growing spot coming toward her in the
water. The catfish poked its head up, then spun around. With a quick flip of
its big tail, so quickly Haylwen could do nothing other than gasp, the fish
splashed water directly on her face. A lot of cold water.
Stunned,
she felt it slide down over her chin and seem to settle at the hollow of her
neck. She sat up, and tried to wipe her face off somewhat, and looked at the
fish in shock. She may be crazy, but that was not her imagination.
The
fish smiled, or whatever it was, again. It tucked its antennae back against its
head, giving it a pleased expression.
Haylwen
sat there for another moment, then laughed. “It’s only water, right?” She
couldn’t help herself. She laughed again, laughed some more, laughed until she
was crying again. She purposely flicked those laugh-tears at the fish, but
missed every time. The whole situation was so ridiculous, her emotions were so
out of control that she could do nothing but laugh.
When
she finally stopped laughing, the fish started swimming in circles, slowly
heading back to the center of the pond. At the point nearest Haylwen, it poked
its head up.
She
got up and brushed herself off. “Yeah, I guess I should get home too.”
The
fish winked and slipped away under the water.
Haylwen
shook her head. Even if she had friends, they would think she was crazy if she
told them. She touched that spot on her neck that was still cool and promised
herself she would get her mother to go bra shopping when she got home. Whenever
that was. And look up if fish can wink. She got up and started walking back,
not even feeling a gentle touch on her mind.
By
the time she got home, she was exhausted and starving. She went to the
bathroom, then into the kitchen to get a snack. Her father was there, making a
cup of tea.
“Hey,
Hayl.”
Haylwen
attempted to ignore her father. She didn't expect him to let her get away with
it, and he didn't.
As
she stood there with the door to the fridge open, he stepped in front of her.
“I said, Hey, Hayl. And you say...” He had a small smile on his face, but his
eyes were searching hers.
Haylwen
closed the door, trying to squish her father into the fridge. “Excuse me,” she
said.
Abrennin
stepped out of the fridge and looked at her again. “Where did you get that
necklace?” he asked quietly.
“Necklace?”
Haylwen said, touching her neck. The spot that had stayed cool, the spot where
the water had collected now held something there. Had it always been there? She
could feel a cool metal necklace around her neck, with a small round ball
dangling in the hollow of her throat. Part of her would have sworn it had not
been there two seconds ago. But somehow it felt like it had been there since
she could remember…
About
the Author
To young C. H.
MacLean, books were everything: mind-food, friends, and fun. They gave the shy
middle child’s life color and energy. Amazingly, not everyone saw them that
way. Seeing a laundry hamper full of books approach her, the librarian scolded
C. H. for trying to check them all out. “You’ll never read that many before
they expire!” C. H. was surprised, having shown great restraint only by keeping
a list of books to check out next time. Thoroughly abashed, C. H. waited three
whole days after finishing that lot before going back for more.
With an internal
world more vivid than the real one, C. H. was chastised for reading in the
library instead of going to class. “Neurotic, needs medical help,” the teacher
diagnosed. C. H.’s father, a psychologist, just laughed when he heard. “She’s
just upset because those books are more challenging than her class.” C. H.
realized making up stories was just as fun as reading, and harder to get caught
doing. So for a while, C. H. crafted stories and characters out of wisps and
trinkets, with every toy growing an elaborate personality.
But toys were
not mature, and stories weren’t respectable for a family of doctors. So C. H.
grew up and learned to read serious books and study hard, shelving foolish
fantasies for serious work.
Years passed in
a black and white blur. Then, unpredictably falling in love all the way to a
magical marriage rattled C. H.’s orderly world. A crazy idea slipped in a
resulting crack and wouldn’t leave. “Write the book you want to read,” it said.
“Write? As in, a fantasy novel? But I’m not creative,” C. H. protested. The
idea, and C. H.’s spouse, rolled their eyes.
So one day, C.
H. started writing. Just to try it, not that it would go anywhere. Big mistake.
Decades of pent-up passion started pouring out, making a mess of an orderly
life. It only got worse. Soon, stories popped up everywhere- in dreams, while
exercising, or out of spite, in the middle of a work meeting. “But it’s not
important work,” C. H. pleaded weakly. “They are not food, or friends, or…” But
it was too late. C. H. had re-discovered that, like books, life should be fun
too. Now, writing is a compulsion, and a calling.
C. H. lives in a
Pacific Northwest forest with five cats, two kids, one spouse, and absolutely
no dragons or elves, faeries, or demons… that are willing to be named, at
least.
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