Pembrim: The Hidden Alcove

By Bree Lenehan

There had been whispers of a magical hidden alcove within the Fenix Forest of Ameral Alley for years, but according to legend, no one had ever found it. 

Until now. 

Seventeen-year-old Halia Bodine, a girl with a medically baffling rare lung disease, begins dreaming of a map that leads her to the hidden alcove of Moa's Rock. In the depths of this magical alcove exists the vibrant underwater world of M'deia, with its hunter tribes, alluring creatures, ghastly beasts, and untouched lands. After a fated encounter with Luka, a M'deian boy in exile from his clan, Halia enters this mythical underwater world. Once there, she learns that her illness ceases to exist, that she loves without reciprocation, and the cold truth of her parents' death.

When her family heirloom — a timepiece cursed with the power to end all lives of the sea's inhabitants — is found in an ancient enemy's wicked hands, Halia soon discovers that this world is not without its own lurking dangers. First, her foe turns the tribes to stone. Next, he wants Halia dead. 

When Halia comes face-to-face with her fears, will she finally have the chance to go back in time and save both the stone tribe and her parents from their unfortunate deaths, or will her enemy destroy her and all she holds dear before she can?

Find out in this wondrous tale of friendship, mystery, and sea-crossed romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bree Lenehan
• Release date: Jun 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781987574807

Bree Lenehan

Bree Lenehan is an Australian radio personality, singer, and author. Her passion for creativity and mixing magic with transformative morale through the power of words flows through all her work. She may not have found the wardrobe to Narnia, the Bridge to Terebithia, or received a letter from Hogwarts, but she did fall upon the passage to Moa’s Rock. The world inside Bree’s first novel Pembrim: The Hidden Alcove came to her many years ago, in the backwoods of her grandparents’ property, where she stumbled upon a secret waterhole that became her daily escape from the real world. Connect with her online: Goodreads.com/BreeLenehan Twitter.com/BreeeLenehan Instagram.com/BreeeLenehan

Book preview

Pembrim: The Hidden Alcove

Bree Lenehan

Published by Bree Lenehan, 2018.

For the sake of our everlasting imaginations,

that vow to never die.

Because one day our hands will be frail,

our legs will be tired,

and our minds will have only grown richer.

We will have lived a number of lives,

escaped to many worlds,

and travelled thousands of miles

through the stories found within the pages.

On my rocking chair these tired legs will rest,

with this book in my frail hands,

and I will smile at the story that started with mine.

PEMBRIM: THE HIDDEN ALCOVE

Copyright © Bree Lenehan, 2017

All rights reserved. Bree Lenehan has asserted her moral rights to be identified as the author of this work. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out, resold, or otherwise circulated in any manner, without the prior consent and written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, illustrations, dialogue, places, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or used for fictional purposes.

For permission requests, please contact www.breelenehan.com

ISBN 978-1987574807

Cover by Cesar Ngabo www.elcesart.com

Editor: Eanna Roberts

Proofreader: Juliette Lachemeier

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

CONTENTS

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

M’deian Glossary

Acknowledgements

About The Author

For the sake of our everlasting imaginations,

that vow to never die.

Because one day our hands will be frail,

our legs will be tired,

and our minds will have only grown richer.

We will have lived a number of lives,

escaped to many worlds,

and travelled thousands of miles

through the stories found within the pages.

On my rocking chair these tired legs will rest,

with this book in my frail hands,

and I will smile at the story that started with mine.

PROLOGUE

THE NEWS REPORTS, NOTICE boards, newspapers, and banners all around Ameral Alley read, ‘17-year-old missing girl, Halia Bodine, left her belongings inside the hidden alcove’. For years prior, there were whispers of a secret hidden world, a world separated from ours. These were the he-said-she-said make-believe, wondrous tales of the hidden alcove. But that’s just what they were, tales. So, as you can imagine, when this news of the missing girl came about, the townspeople were more concerned about the tales being true. Most wanted to find out why the hidden alcove was hidden in the first place, so much so they’d completely forgotten about the missing girl. But the one thing they didn’t even try to find was the most important of all.

Diary entry 44:

The tales are true; the hidden alcove of Moa’s Rock exists. Beneath it are powerful underwater tribes, alluring creatures, and beautiful, untouched lands. I must return to the one who led me to it, he only shows himself when he wants to be seen. He could be right in front of you and you wouldn’t even know it, and on the off chance you thought you saw something, no one would believe it. Right now, you won’t understand, and by the time you do, it’ll be too late… I’ll already be gone. And to be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever return.

- H.B.

If you’re still here… Let’s go back to the beginning.

SIX YEARS AGO

CHAPTER ONE

HALIA BODINE WAS ONLY one day old when her parents died and she was left in the care of her mother’s sister, Stanley Bodine, otherwise known as Aunt Deedee or Ms. Bodine. Aunt Deedee was a well-to-do business woman with a neck so long it looked to be made for modelling necklaces, and that’s just what she did — not professionally — but every day she paraded a new jewel. She had hair an owl would envy, it was fluffy and pigmented, with strands of brown, grey, and orange standing out, glinting in the sunlight. She hadn’t aged a day in her life before she became Halia’s guardian, but now it seemed it’d all caught up with her. Becoming Halia’s guardian was a foreign responsibility that came with many complications.

Halia was born with a lung disease so rare that even the doctors were stumped by her medically-unexplainable physical symptoms, making Halia undiagnosable. All the doctors really knew about her condition was that it would affect her for the rest of her life. The best doctors could do was suggest that Halia breathe through a nasal cannula to aid her breathing; they claimed this would bring her a better quality of life. The most convincing reason for using a nasal cannula was that it would expand her life expectancy to twenty years, which may not have seemed like a small victory, but it was, because check-ups and watching the children play outside her window were the fruits of Halia’s childhood. Nevertheless, Aunt Deedee agreed. She had truly taken on the role of being a parent, and by the time Halia was eleven years old, neither of them knew the difference anyway.

It was the year 2012. Halia and Aunt Deedee lived on level four, in room F, 933 Wattle Lane, Ameral Alley. Halia’s window overlooked the edge of the city and the beginning of the ocean. She could hear the waves crashing onto the shore and see the flock of birds flying past with gilded wings against the flaming setting sun. These were no seagulls gathering around the salted sea; strangely enough, these were a mixed species from the Fenix Forest.

Inside the Fenix Forest was where some believed the hidden alcove could be found; they’d said it was so majestic that it would be no surprise if there were true magic lingering within. But with the forest so expansive, no one had ever explored its entirety. Sadly, maybe no one ever would. It was one of the five forests remaining in the world, and it was only a matter of time before the unethical, money-hungry, earth-destroying businessmen decided to tear it down.

In her last year of primary school, Halia came home with a letter from Rivendell’s School for Children. A letter requesting the permission for its students to attend the school’s new weekly swim safety lessons at the small, isolated beach directly opposite Halia’s bedroom window. Considering the water more or less reached the apartment, wouldn’t that have been perfect? Besides, Halia had never been swimming before.

When Aunt Deedee got home it was late, as per usual. She worked as a fairly successful business manager at the most prestigious senior high school around, St. Jullian’s Grammar School. This was a lengthy name to pronounce for some of these kids, so it was better known as SJG. This was where Halia was going to attend, of course, and Ms. Bodine didn’t mind bragging about it either, but that’s another story.

Halia sat at the edge of her bed, counting down the hours before she would find out if she was going to feel the sea against her skin for the very first time, watching the clouds evaporate so the stars could roll out, and wondering about the stories and if they were true. She was interrupted only by the journal that stared at her from her desk. There, she poured out her thoughts in the hope that it would give her mind a clean slate ready for sleep.

Diary entry 7:

I’m scared to sleep in case I don’t wake, but when I do, it’s because my lungs have woken me. My tired, puffy eyes search my dark room; it’s still hours before I’m supposed to wake up. My throat still burns from the night before. My chest feels like the picking of a guitar string, one at a time, like the air that vibrates from the strings is all I have to consume. It didn’t feel nearly as beautiful as the notes of a guitar though. If it did, it would almost make the suffering worth it.

- H.B.

In the chilly morning air, Halia’s body jolted her awake as though it had forgotten to take a breath. She tossed and turned before giving in to her throat’s dry demands. Yanking the oxygen tank in its trolley behind her, a glass of water soothed her throat momentarily. Halia then got up and dragged her feet to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The sun was yet to rise, and her hair was still the colour of her eyes, chocolate brown. That was the way she liked it.

As Halia stared at her reflection in the mirror, she mused on how she dreamed wildly, every night, of someone leading her into the forest. She never saw his face; even under the moonlit sky, he looked like a shadow. All she could see was a crumpled map in his black cotton-gloved hands and the winding trails printed on it. She followed cautiously, while his silhouette cascaded through the forest like liquid night. The cool midnight air bit her fingertips, the silence swallowed her thoughts, and a fork in the trail left her lost, for the faceless boy had just disappeared, and she didn’t have a clue which path he’d taken.

Until she had heard something. The left path livened with rustling bushes. The sound of quick footsteps scratched at the leaves. A slithering face emerged. Its small, beady eyes gazed at her. Its face was like an eel, but its mouth was human. The leaves lifted as its skeletal legs pierced through the soil. As much as Halia’s chest pounded, she couldn’t run away. The beast’s mouth opened slowly, displaying one monstrous tooth the size of Halia’s head. But instead of feeling afraid, she felt only curiosity… Is that a timepiece? Her lips cracked open in surprise, looking past the beast’s tooth to find a timepiece dangling from the back of its throat.

Leave! Get out of here! came a strong, gravelly voice from the other side.

A male warrior stood at the foot of the path opposite the beast, waving a three-pronged spear in his grasp. His eyes glowed blue like the stars. His skin shone an emerald green as scales covered his neck and shoulders, shimmering under the night sky. A dotted array rippled across the tails either side of his legs that wrapped around his waist like a blanket, and his webbed feet were planted in the sand. Every movement felt like it happened in slow motion, like running in water. Unless… he was from the water.

It’s too dangerous here, Halia, the gills on his face flared as he yelled the words.

Wait, how do you know my na—

• • •

… It was just a dream; it’s not real, she calmed herself. It was always the same dream, waking her up before she was able to ask the question. The same dream that caused her to wake with puffy eyes and matted hair. Trying to brush through it was like mowing over an ant’s nest, home to a thousand giant ants with pincers for teeth — and they were starving. No matter how hard she tried to brush it out, she only made it worse… Much, much worse.

By the time Halia had reached the last hair, the sun was roaring up, welcoming a new day, and taking everyone else in the apartment block with it. The sunrise first peaked through a tiny window next to the shower; her olive skin glowed golden against it, turning Halia’s beloved chocolate locks into a fiery cacao, blending in with the reddish-purple tinge of the sunrise.

She was forced to bend just to see her own reflection in the mirror. Everything about her was tall, from her legs and her piano fingers, to her neck. In the awkwardness of her stance, she dropped her brush, but as she spun around to retrieve it, her body became entangled in the tubes attaching her to her flow of oxygen. She dropped to the ground, angry at her body and with herself. Stupid… nose hose! she said, untangling herself. Strangely enough, she found herself smiling as she glared at her oxygen tube. Maybe that’s how I can make you more likeable, with a name.

Looking at the trolley, she thought about what name would suit it best. It followed her wherever she went and it held oxygen, a type of gas. Hmm, a gas that follows. Much like a far— her out-loud train of thought paused, well, I refuse to name you after that! Halia chuckled to herself. Eventually, she settled on the name Troxygen. But, she was yet to create a name for the cylinder o-tank backpack that was made for out-of-home occasions. How about… airbag? the thought appeared, and airbag it was.

Pulling herself to her feet, she felt ready to take on the day. Halia skipped through the polished wooden rooms of her dwelling, tugging Troxygen behind her, in hopes that she’d find the permission slip opened, let alone signed. Aunt Deedee was most certainly on the stricter side of parenting, and for good reason, so it came as no shock to find the letter crumpled and poorly covered under a few empty bottles of wine and paper towels in the bin.

I suppose that’s a no, said Halia, flattening the letter as straight as her expression and placing it on her aunt’s desk.

You’re a smart girl, Aunt Deedee replied, without lifting her focus from her mountain of bookkeeping in front of her.

Halia walked half way out the door before stopping. But I’ve never been before.

I’ll run you a bath and throw in some flippers if you really must, Aunt Bodine chuckled under her breath.

I’ve never even seen a fish in real life, and that is really very sad, Halia added, pouting.

Well, I’ll buy you one if that’s what you want, Deedee said, still shuffling papers about, bringing their discussion to an end.

Halia didn’t seem to be making what she wanted clear. She tried once more, But it’s not quite the same.

This time Aunt Deedee stopped what she was doing. As her shoulders relaxed, she peered up at Halia sweetly and said, Darling, there are plenty of animals up here that you have not yet seen, so why don’t we leave what’s up here and what’s down there to their own, huh?

That’s kind of a funny thing to say to an eleven-year-old, right? But Halia didn’t find it funny at all.

Besides, you wouldn’t want all your friends seeing your kangaroo feet now, would you? Her aunt smiled, tapping her pointer on Halia’s nose.

Halia’s lips curved at the edges; she didn’t want to smile, but she did have big feet. Anyway, that’s usually when Halia knew to give it up. The next attempt would’ve cost her a night without her books — except for the homework kind — and just the thought of that caused her to shudder. Aunt Deedee may seem fairly career driven and uptight, and that’s probably because she was, but she truly loved Halia as though she were her own daughter. The determination to keep Halia safe was rooted deeply from the key things Halia had grown up without. Plus, Aunt Deedee had adjusted quite well considering such a big change in her life.

Still, Halia walked with slumped shoulders, the rumbling sound of rolling wheels along the wooden floors following her into her bedroom, where she opened her journal to vent. She always handled her feelings quietly and only small portions at a time. As her hand trailed the journal, she soon forgot about all she wanted to say as her attention was caught by a murmur coming from the lounge room.

"Aquatic life is taking over the coast line! That’s right, what we first believed was an oil leak is actually thousands of fish swarming onto Ameral Alley’s very own shores!" a male commercial voice broadcasted from the TV screen.

"Well, Martin, what are they swimming away from?" his young female co-host added.

Halia ran to her bedroom window that overlooked the shore to catch a glimpse firsthand. Squinting her eyes, she scanned the water running along the sandy banks, and the noise from the television collided with the serenity of the waves crashing against the shore like a drill. Although, now that tomorrow’s swim safety class was likely going to be cancelled, it did make Halia feel a little better, a little lighter, and a lot more relieved that she wouldn’t be missing out on it after all.

Well, what is the meaning behind this bizarre occurrence? That, we are not yet certain. But, what we do know is that this is a fisherman’s dream come true! Martin cackled proudly at himself.

Oh, Martin, you really are a typical male, aren’t you? the young female tittered, rolling her eyes.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Once those cameras are off, I’m sure those two can’t stand to be near each other, Halia cringed. She did have her flaws, her bad moods, or not-very-nice thoughts, but don’t we all? Maybe she couldn’t stand such fake conversations, or maybe she just couldn’t stand the lack of empathy. Maybe it was the fact that they were not more interested in truly getting to the bottom of why the fish were swarming away from the ocean in the first place. Maybe it was all of the above.

Halia plonked herself down on her bed. She looked at the sky and watched the stars dancing to the song of the wind and rain. A spotlight of lightning always came before the chorus of thunder. She wondered if there were anyone else like her, sitting at their window and listening to the choir of dark, grey clouds. When time paused for as long as the rain fell, when the city of lights was blacked out, and Ameral Alley was quiet, dark, and wild, and all but a city of tall buildings and people working their lives away. But then she’d realised… maybe she just saw magic in times when others saw nothing.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SKIES WERE A clear blue when Halia got to school the next day. To her utter dismay, her bus pulled up behind the Ameral Alley Swim Safety bus.

But what about the news? The fish… the shore would be covered in fish? Halia huffed. Her ponytail bounced as she jumped from the bus’ steps towards her teacher, Mr. Feldip.

There’s not a fish in sight! We’re heading out first thing this morning while it stays that way, he said gleefully.

Halia caught a glimpse of her friends as their backs turned to step onto the ‘fun bus’. She had only three friends, but good friends at that, and three good friends was all she needed. Plus, she found it a lot easier that way.

• • •

Hudson Larke first met Halia in preschool, and the only thing she could remember of him from then was his blue eyes and constant rosy cheeks, like he’d pressed a slice of beetroot up against them every morning. And even now, it was no different. His nose was long and pointed, he had bags under his eyes that any forty-year-old would have, which would be normal, except for one main component: Hudson was eleven. At every point of the day he would look like he’d just woken from slumber, so maybe he had trouble sleeping too. Halia liked that about him, and he liked her even more. The longer bits of hair at the top fell into perfect sections on his forehead and between his eyes, like the branches of a tree. He was a quiet young man, moreso around Halia, but she was oblivious to the real reason.

Poppy Botterbrinks found her seat and peered outside the window; you could tell when she spotted Halia because her face lit up like a Christmas tree, her smile was so big, and her light-green eyes so squinted that they almost disappeared. She had a pixie haircut that differentiated herself from her peers, and most of the girls in their grade envied her for it. She had the perfect little face for it too, with swarthy, glowing skin, ears as small and rounded as a button, and lips the colour of a plum.

Then there was Kyle Lendahen, whose last name was a struggle to pronounce, so even the teachers skipped past it through roll call. He was the chatterbox of them all. Long shaggy hair covered his face, with a few unintentional dread locks here and there. It became obvious from a young age that he would be labelled the class clown, and that might just be what he was going to run with. He was already a little more mischievous than the rest of the kids his age and didn’t mind making his own last name the punch line of a joke.

You know how businesses have their slogans? Well, Kyle did too. It all began when Mr. Feldip was interrupted by the principal during class, and he felt he’d give Kyle the chance to make the attention he constantly drew into something useful. Of course, when Mr. Feldip asked him to do this, Kyle responded, So, you want me to Lend-A-Hand?

And every day after that, his peers walked past him offering high fives and saying, Kyle Lendahen, always willing to Lend-A-Hand!

They never pronounced it incorrectly again, and the rest is history.

They were a motley bunch, the four of them. Kyle pushed open the bus windows in attempt to get Halia’s attention, and her three friends over-exaggerated their sympathy through sad faces and hand gestures. Especially considering Halia would be missing out on what sounded like the most exhilarating class yet.

We’ll take photos for you; you won’t even feel like you’ve missed a thing! Poppy ensured.

Halia shrugged and shouted back, You guys aren’t going to have fun without me anyway!

But really, she didn’t even want to go. Or at least, that’s what she’d convinced herself.

Tap, tap, tap, Halia jumped, jolted by the pats on her shoulder. She was too busy daydreaming about all the things she didn’t yet know. Weirdly enough, she loved that feeling, Halia was very… curious. Pryn, with her crimson hair and head held high, stood that close to Halia she could feel the tiny hairs on her arm stand up, must’ve been excited about not leaving the school. Yeah, Pryn Bervado was a bit like that. You know, the academic over-achiever who was excited all the time, usually about all the things most ordinary people despised.

"You must be excited for your birthday tomorrow. Almost a teenager, you’ll be older than I am. Rest assured, you may be older, but there won’t be much else I can’t top," Pryn smirked.

Thrilled. So, I suppose your parents didn’t sign the slip either? Halia brought this to attention, purely to fill the empty silence.

Oh no, time is of the essence, Halia. I couldn’t possibly spare this time. I could be reading my books from book club! And, and I didn’t want to be behind in this week’s homework either, Pryn declared in a way that screamed duh. Well, that was Pryn for you.

Pryn, you complete our class homework four days early every week. I’m sure it’ll be okay, just this once, Halia tried to reason. Anyway, I’m kind of glad you stayed.

So that’s what my mam means when she says, ‘That’s just crazy talk!’ Pryn said, scratching her head.

Okay! I think I’ll just stick with the silence, Halia realised, and that’s exactly what she did until their class mates barged through the doors with wet hair and sand on their shoes.

How was it? asked Halia, as she found her seat beside Poppy.

Fun, Poppy said simply, flicking the sand from her lap. "But, sand is so uncomfortable! It gets in all the places you don’t want it to. I’m going to be shedding sand for days."

So, I didn’t miss anything special then. Halia smiled.

Poppy turned to Halia with a seriousness in her eyes, Halia, don’t you find it strange that Ms. Bodine has never let you swim in the ocean before?

I struggle to breathe at all, let alone hold it under water, Halia insisted, although, she agreed.

The kids at school still looked at Halia curiously and mostly with judgement. They’d mumble horrible comments under their breath. Halia’s personal favourite