One
is Come
Five
in Circle Series
Book
1
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.
Available at Amazon
Free January 22-26
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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