Two Empty Thrones

By C. H. MacLean

Love dragons and magic in your YA reads?

"The action-packed story comes to life ... with descriptions that are so vivid they make you 'see' the story as it unfolds, making you feel as if you are there." ~ Readers' Favorite Review

Two Empty Thrones is the second installment in a young adult fantasy saga full of surprising plot twists and turns. The centuries-old prophecy 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.

"Very well developed story with great characters and lots of magic... Can't wait for the next book in the series. I highly recommend this book and series for all ages. Enjoy a little magic in your life." - James, Amazon review

Continued from Book 1:

With her powers growing every day, fourteen-year-old Haylwen Rightad thinks she’s safe in the magical forest. And now that she finally has the friends she always wanted, what is there to be afraid of?

But she’s not out of the woods yet. Old enemies rip through her beloved forest, threatening to haul Haylwen and her newfound friends away. Their safety shattered, Haylwen and her friends are suddenly at each other’s throats. Is the friendship she worked so hard for already ruined, or is there another, unseen enemy at work?

Haylwen and her brother must unmask this mysterious enemy before they can fight it off. But even if all their enemies are destroyed, the King of the magic users will stop at nothing to ensure he’s still in power when the dragons take over the world. And he’s hidden an enemy where Haylwen would never think to look.

If no one is what they seem, who can she trust?

With a mysterious prophecy, magical secrets and dragons where you least expect them, Two Empty Thrones is the second 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.

Overcome reality - have some fun - grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. H. MacLean
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781941193020

C. H. MacLean

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.***Overcome Reality. Invigorate Dreams.***

Book preview

THE CATACLYSM

Even the darkness was broken. A flickering light from the large fires over the hill cast looming shadows. The fires were large and getting closer. Faustas leaned over the table, one hand leaning on its cool surface, the other twisting his mustache. He knew it was a sign of nervousness, but there was no one watching. Somehow twisting it made his insides feel less twisted. His thoughts betrayed him, flicking to his wife and son, safe in the castle. He took a deep breath and fought the guilty urge to run out into the shadowy hills to fight. He could at least throw some waterspouts over the hill, something to actually help.

"You are helping," a familiar voice rumbled in his head. Although it was only in his mind, the voice somehow had an echoing effect he would swear his ears were hearing. Without taking his eyes from the map, he shook his head.

You know what I mean, he said, quieter than a whisper. He knew he didn't have to actually say anything, but it felt more like a real conversation this way. Like he wasn't so alone. You at least can be doing something, anything, rather than having to sit here, safe.

"You are no coward, and we need you safe. Well, we really just need your strategic creativity safe, being used where it does the most good." The gentle joking turned serious again. Besides, despite your kingly powers, out here, you would be just another mu.

There was an explosion, and Faustas flicked his head up to look out of the tiny opening in the cave. The fires on the other side of the hill leaped forward, cresting the hill. The area became brighter, but the shadows stayed, and seemed to grow darker and more numerous. Faustas shook his head. This battle was going poorly, and he couldn’t figure out why. Time to scrap this plan, he thought.

He spun to grab a couple of blank maps from a wall shelf, images and possibilities swirling in rapid succession over them. He rolled the maps out, overlaying ghostly markings in rapid succession. There! he murmured, holding on one arrangement. If that unit drops back while these two slide there, these will fall in... Yes! That’s it.

"See," the voice in his head interrupted to make its point.

Maybe you are right, Faustas chuckled. He briefly turned his attention to his maps, expanding and double-checking details. He then reached out with his mind to thank his friend and general of the Guidant armies and issue new orders.

And got nothing.

He frowned for a moment, reaching out again. If anything happened to Daerren, he didn’t know what he would do. But with sinking certainty, he knew something terrible had happened. In desperation, he tried calling to the trees.

Shockingly, there was nothing there either. A small noise in the cave made him spin around. Six figures stood behind him against the unbroken rock wall. Long robes covered them from head to toe and hid their faces in shadow. Four wore maroon, one bright red, the last black. Faustas started, hesitating for the briefest of moments, distracted by the energy of the figure in black. Then, with a roar, Faustus threw his hands wide, flames leaping from his fingers toward the stacks of papers and maps in the small cave.

But he was too late. The four figures in maroon robes had their hands up before Faustas. His flames were absorbed into nothingness before they could touch anything. He tried to create an energy bubble, but he couldn't even start before a pain shot inside his head from his temple to his eye. He blindly staggered, wondering how, why. Another burst of pain hit him from the other side and he fell to the floor in a heap. More pain shot around in his head and he couldn't help but cry out. An energy bubble appeared around him, and he reflexively tried to throw up a counter. Still reeling, he was too late. The counter just ricocheted inside the bubble in which he was trapped, striking him in the leg. Powerful as it was, he barely felt it compared to the pain in his head.

Scepter of Kings… he tried to croak out, but the pain in his head increased and his call was cut off by someone screaming in pain. He realized after a few seconds it was his own voice. He lost track of time and himself in the waves of pain that rolled over him.

When the pain ebbed to barely tolerable, he stood, difficult now that he was trapped in a prison bubble. He dimly saw the one figure in blood red robes in the center of the front of the cave. The cloaked figure's hands were raised, and the whole front of the cave was gone, lying in rubble. This one must be human and male, hurtling Fire, Water, and Earth, everything in great gouts down the hill. How long has he been doing that? Once-proud trees had transformed into torches or stumps. Faustas’s mind flickered over the few male humans who had that much power. The cloaked figure turned around, and Faustas finally was able to see his face in the now-bright firelight.

You, Faustus whispered, falling down to his knees in a different kind of pain. His thoughts echoed, Joslachar, my trusted Right Hand!

Joslachar smiled. No, you actually. I had evidence you were the Rogue traitor we had suspected, and not Idris. I confronted you. You put up quite a struggle and tried to destroy the evidence before you finally fled from me and my loyal men here. I tried to stop you, but I was unsuccessful.

Faustas looked back, confused, and saw one of the maroon-robed figures busy stuffing his precious plans into empty packs. Another maroon robe replaced them with a set from the full packs they had brought. The figure in black stood apart, watching from the shadows.

The hardest part was finding one of your offensives to subvert, Joslachar continued. Faustas turned back as he started talking again. Idris put up quite a fight before he lost his mind, and we could use him to reveal this one.

Idris wasn’t a traitor... The steady pain faded to the background as Faustas’s emotions reacted to the information. Joy and pain exploded with the confirmation that his Left Hand had been loyal, but tortured until he’d cracked. Fury and resolve overwhelmed him at the betrayal by the one he’d never suspected! You’re keeping me alive for… Faustas said, stalling and starting to plan.

Oh, we will kill you eventually, just not here and not now. We have a use for you. Besides, we thought you might have a few secrets that you didn't write down.

I'll never talk.

That's what I thought, but, well, who am I to argue with the Conclave of Controllers? The eyes that were locked on Faustas were confident, even taunting, at the mention of the oppressive faction against the Gathering of Guidants. So Joslachar is one of them! Little clues, easily ignored in the past, now made sense. Faustas’s mind spun itself free of the pain, and the pieces fell into place. He understood the horrible actions of this traitor and, more frighteningly, knew where they led. But oh, the shame! To be deceived so easily, so thoroughly! I am a fool! He tested the limits of his prison and was met with blinding pain again.

When he regained his thoughts and sight, he saw Joslachar smirking. Oh, awake, finally? Joslachar shook his head. I knew I was more powerful than you! I should have challenged you for the crown. Now, I will just get it uncontested, and you will never know for sure I am your better. Perhaps I should let you out...

The figure in black stepped forward, cutting Joslachar off without a word. The motion let Faustas get a glimpse of the face under the hood, and he was shocked again. I must get out and tell the others! The treachery here could destroy the world! His mind leaped to a desperate, but simple, plan.

Listen, Jossy, you know I never...

Joslachar whirled and screamed, Don't call me that! My name is Joslachar! I will hear you scream my name for mercy!

Faustas was ready for the blinding pain and, just before it came, he launched his attack at the prison bubble that held him. Through the pain he could feel it weakening.

The figure in black chuckled, obviously female but oddly coarse. He's almost out, she said. Stop being manipulated and let's get on with it.

Faustas's pain decreased as Joslachar regained control of himself. Faustas gave up on his attack. Through blurry eyes, he looked over and saw the last files and maps had been transferred, and the maroon-robed figures stepped back. They raised their hands and, with a mutter, tiny tongues of flames licked at the room, scorching, but not destroying, the fake plans and maps, as short bursts of Air tossed furniture around.

The whole group stepped outside, Faustas floating along helplessly in his bubble.

Time for you to go, Joslachar said, raising his hand.

Out of time, Faustas screamed in desperation. He fought the increasing pain, using it, turning his screams into commands of pure Power. He thought of his wife and son, drawing strength from his love for them. Magic energies swirled around him, trapped dangerously in his bubble, and his mind narrowed in focus to a point. Part of him was aware of Joslachar's eyes widening in surprise, growling something, trying to control him.

The figure in black shook her head and raised her hands. She was directly interfering!

Faustas fought harder, his thoughts diving desperately into forgotten corners. Anything, he screamed in his mind, anything to be free of this prison! Die or burn out if I must, but I must warn the others!

* * *

Daerren was thrown by an explosion. He lay there, stunned more by the realization the energy blast had come from behind them. A brief thought that perhaps the blasts were being thrown over him was dismissed, as he would have seen them as they came in. He twisted and managed to dive into the ground before being thrown again. He swam through the earth to where his second-in-command was supposed to be, but both he and his human mu companion were dead. How?

No time to think. Daerren dove into the earth again just as bolts of Fire and Water raced toward him. The ground shook with his rage. How could the enemy know their exact position?

He swam further this time, emerging at each of his command leaders’ positions. At the next pair he visited, he barely rose to the level of the surface before being forced back underground. He knew they were fighting hard, but the enemy had already split his forces.

At the next stop, Daerren rose out of the ground and saw his friends lying there, dead from a blast from behind, enemy troops all around him. Overcome, he roared.

The enemy turned as one. Daerren’s eyes glinted, mirroring the firelight reflecting off the humans' spears. He stomped one foot, and a wave of Earth rippled all around him, a circle of earthquake. Enemy troops tried to regain their footing as he ran through them, slashing at their thighs. Scale and metal tore like wet leaves under his claws. None would die, but they would have to retreat to reach aid. Even now, he would not, could not, kill. He was a blur as he raced through them and shrugged off the few weakened strikes from weapons and energy, pain dulled by his anger. When the mini-quake ended, twenty enemies lay on the ground, bleeding and moaning, and another twenty were being called to assist them.

Only seconds had passed. Daerren dove again.

He swam furiously around, emerging at his other command stations. Some were lucky, avoiding serious injury by the blasts from behind. They couldn’t work effectively, trying to defend from both the front and the rear, but they had held their own. He worked with each of them, ignoring the draining passage of time, coordinating the retreat.

When the battle was stabilized, Daerren’s exhaustion fell on him like an avalanche. His mind still whirled, though, and as he thought through the pieces, looking up the hill, he finally realized from where the attack must have come. The secret cave. He froze, overwhelmed with the impossibility. If the enemy killed his friend, the movement would be devastated!

He dove, swimming up to the top-secret cave he had crafted. Emerging just outside, he was shocked at the sight. The seclusion was trampled, the bunker destroyed utterly. Troops sifted through the rubble of the cave, while two of his commanders questioned a figure in a black robe just outside. Where is my advisor and confidant? He rushed forward, stopped immediately by one of his commanders. Daerren tried to brush by but was held back.

He’s gone, sir, the commander said.

What do you mean, gone? Daerren snapped.

The commander looked him in the eye. According to the report, he portaled away. Several eyewitnesses are being questioned right now.

Daerren stood stone still.

But they all confirm he was the one attacking our troops, sir.

Impossible! Daerren roared.

The commander blanched and took a step back, words tumbling out of his mouth. Solbright saw it with her own eyes! She was working with Faustas's Right Hand to investigate the other human traitor, but she said all the evidence kept leading to Faustas! And the papers, which he tried to destroy before he fled, showed he was setting up the Guidants for a major loss. I hate to say it, but the Conclave was right! He was one of the Rogues, sir! I saw the evidence myself! Today’s disaster was just a first step. If it wasn’t for Solbright and Joslachar's surprise confrontation, who knows what could have happened?

Daerren's face fell. Can it be true? He had never believed the saying that you couldn’t trust a human…

The commander tried to complete his report. The evidence is pretty convincing, sir. Of course, we are starting a full investigation…

Daerren lost the rest. My friend! Oh, Faustas, you're a traitor! He slumped to the ground, confused to the point of pain. He knew only defeat.

CHAPTER 1

TREE WARNING

Haylwen, Cadarn, the twins, and Nacia sat in a circle in the open grassy area where they usually met for martial arts practice. They used it for everything now. Today they were practicing sign language. It was quiet, only occasionally broken by a few words, if Cadarn asked a question.

Haylwen took a break and leaned back against the large oak behind her. Surrounded by the trees, the magical trees that somehow kept them safe from the monsters that chased them, she relaxed, hearing the birds and breeze through the leaves above her. Without trying, almost by reflex, she felt the energy of magic. She had been reading and practicing so much, the light leaped to her inner sight without effort. She could see clearly the light surrounding her, and her own bright and strong inner ball of light sitting in her chest.

She let her ball of internal energy grow and felt a tug. For a moment, she felt there were other places in her body where energy would form! She excitedly wondered if they might let her do more with magic. Does Cadarn or my father know? Maybe one of the books? She didn’t wait to ask.

She found one at her throat, touched another really big one at her head. Maybe it was more than one? She focused. Ok, there was the first one in my chest, one in my belly, and at least another one below that. She compared them and felt lines, strings maybe, connecting them. Haylwen suddenly realized they weren’t balls, but were more like pools of energy, with streams flowing back and forth between the pools. She looked at their pulsing movement, growing and shrinking. In another exciting realization, she saw them as tide pools being fed by the ocean of light all around her. They’re all connected!

Then she felt another one, a bigger one, just out of reach beyond her head. She imagined her top pool sending a little stream toward where she felt this other pool. She strained, but it slipped away. She relaxed, and it came closer. She let the stream wander its own way, which just happened to be toward the bigger pool. They touched.

Suddenly, she was swept along in a river. Her little stream grew in an instant, swallowing her in a flash flood. Terror twisted her stomach, but before she could even open her eyes, she stopped. She blinked. Or, at least, she thought she did. Am I awake or dreaming? Or finally gone completely crazy?

She stood on a small island, surrounded by a stream. The stream's giggles whispered around her as it danced along its rocky bed. Other islands surrounded hers, with swift streams making their way along them, a network of water and earth. Each island had a single tree on it. Her island had a tall oak, and she could swear it was the same one she had been leaning against. She took the several steps to the water's edge and looked into the rapidly moving water. Though it was running quickly, the water was so clear she could see sparkling stones on the bottom.

Welcome! a voice said from behind her.

Haylwen spun and saw an old man standing there, his arms crossed, smiling through his beard. His hair was long, dark brown, and snarled, but in such a pattern as to seem intentional. He wore a long robe of coarse fabric, shaded in browns. His eyes were amazingly bright green and shone in contrast against his brown skin. He stood right where the oak had been, the great tree that was now gone.

Again we felt. You come. He spoke so slowly, Haylwen initially thought of saying something during the pauses after his sentences. Welcome. Haylwen. Quickling child. She eventually figured out his sentences were all one.

Haylwen didn’t mind waiting, as there was so much going on in her…what she felt coming in from around her. She felt as if she were immersed in energy, in magic. Everything had a background shimmer, as if she could see the energy of the air reflecting and bouncing off the energy of the land and water. The energy carried a chorus of music, perfectly harmonious together, though each was a full symphony by itself. Haylwen caught a part of the tune, a catchy, simple melody that sounded familiar. She was barely aware of a tiny note of wrongness that was somewhere close, but Haylwen lost it in the wonder.

When the old man had not spoken for some time, Haylwen replied, Where am I?

He gave a breezy laugh. You are. Where you were. And still are.

Huh? Um, let’s start over. How do you know my name?

The old man blinked, shook his head slowly. Haylwen felt herself slow down, or everything else speed up, as the old man muttered something about time and quicklings. Either way, suddenly his speech didn’t seem slow.

He said, You told me your name. He didn't seem to be kidding.

Haylwen tried again. Who are you?

I am who I was. He looked briefly confused, then brightened. But, of course! For the you-now this is the first. He made an odd sort of bow, a swaying from the waist. I am Barandarus, the youngest of the elders, the speaker for the grove.

A flash made Haylwen look around. On the other islands, where the other trees had stood, now stood men and women, wearing similarly-styled robes. They silently watched.

Haylwen tried again. What is this place? She tried not to think she was just hallucinating. A dream, that's all.

Again, the breezy laugh, which seemed to echo as it spread among the other people. This is no place, quickling. This is the energy of the grove. You might even call it the mind of the grove, he said, looking around. Your energy, my energy, he continued, waving his hand at the others, hers and his and hers, all of their energy, vibrating in resonance, in concert. Energy, mind, all as one.

Why did you bring me here?

He shook his head, still smiling. We do not bring. The way was there, the door to open, and you brought. Why did you bring you here? After a pause, he continued with a wink. Perhaps it is guidance you seek from the grove?

Was that a hint? What sort of guidance might I want?

The old man smiled and gave another of his wavy bows. You told us, or will tell us, this would be the way, but still. He smiled with a slow head shake. Curious quicklings, so full of energy, without perspective. He stood a bit differently. You said to be sure I will tell you three. He held up one finger. One. Remember Rivenwake.

Haylwen's eyes widened. Remember Rivenwake? She echoed it in her mind, memories flashing past. Her one real-life meeting with him was a blur of embarrassed stammering as she’d tried to seem normal in the face of his fathomless eyes and too-cute face. Or, could he be talking about her dream of him, running from a horde of assassins and her first kiss, heart-pounding nightmare and romantic fantasy all in one? She couldn't forget him, despite all her trying.

A thrumming started, and Barandarus blinked. Nothing save trouble, he muttered. He flicked a second finger up. Two. Find Faustas.

Why did that name sound familiar...? Oh! The mustachioed king from her book on the history of magic! Find Faustas the Traitor?

He's dead! Haylwen blurted.

Barandarus shook his head. Of course not. Though, it has been a while, even for us.

A moan interrupted. Low and quiet, like someone in the distance was injured. Barandarus winced and then grimaced as more moans joined, changing voices, coming closer. He shook his head, eyes unfocused. A scream broke his look, and he fixed his gaze on her intently.

Child, there is damage come to the grove, he said with energy beyond the volume of his words, and darkness carried in it. We feel it comes for you. We will do what we can, but they were invited, in a way. You are needed to protect yourselves, ourselves. Go, please go.

Looking in Barandarus' eyes, Haylwen could feel his pain. For a second, she knew him, trusted him. She felt a pulling, as if someone had opened a door on a storm.

Wait, what is the third? she blurted, fighting the pulling sensation.

Clearing come. Now go! Barandarus shouted.

Haylwen let herself slide into the opening, back along the same way she’d come. She blinked and was back in the clearing, sitting just as she had been. She jumped up, the others watching her curiously.

What's up, Hayl? Cadarn asked.

There is damage and darkness coming to the grove, she shot out. She blushed slightly, trying not to notice Cadarn’s look. We should get back to the house.

She quickly grabbed her pack and went to the edge of the clearing to stand looking toward the main house. The others were slowly gathering their things, except for Oakren. He had grabbed all his things, stepped up almost in front of her, and made a few gestures in sign language. Haylwen shook her head, not understanding. He was deaf, but she felt dumb.

Nacia was leading the others out, and Oakren gestured to her and then Haylwen.

What? Nacia said. You want me to say what? You heard the trees and want to talk to them next time?

Haylwen looked sharply at Oakren, surprised. Oakren nodded to himself and smiled. He made a few more gestures.

Nacia sighed. He says he wants you to bring him next time. She shook her head and said under her breath, I know he has a crush on you, but honestly.

Haylwen heard a crash, the distant sound of breaking wood. She started walking, and then heard the sound of a chainsaw. She

Reviews for Two Empty Thrones

[mshooker · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wish I could give this 5 more stars! I am in love with this series! [C.H. MacLean] is a masterful weaver of tales! I will again be recommending this to my school media specialist. The magic continues.