The Sword Unsheathed

By Judith Sterling

Ashling Donoghue is no closer to finding her parents than she was the night they disappeared. But hope returns as her brother Kian channels the Sword of Light, revealing past-life secrets and truths long suppressed.

The more she learns, the greater she fears the darkness that drowns the Netherworld also drives her. Is Aengus her true love, or is it Lorcan? Does her future wait in shadow or the light?

One point is clear: the threads of her past-self are woven inextricably into the tapestry of her soul. An impossible choice looms before her, and all the while, evil is poised to strike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509231171

Judith Sterling

Judith Sterling is an award-winning author whose love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Whether penning medieval romance (The Novels of Ravenwood) or young adult paranormal fantasy (the Guardians of Erin series), her favorite themes include true love, destiny, time travel, healing, redemption, and finding the hidden magic which exists all around us. She loves to share that magic with readers and whisk them far away from their troubles, particularly to locations in the British Isles. Her nonfiction books, written under Judith Marshall, have been translated into multiple languages. She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies. Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.

Book preview

Inc.

His ice blue eyes held my gaze. I felt your need for me.

My stomach quivered. Caer’s need, maybe. Not mine.

Are you sure about that?

No. I’m not sure about anything, and you’re confusing the hell out of me. Yes, I’m sure.

He slunk closer. I know you have feelings for me. Set them free.

Why? So we can spend another night in your bed?

He froze. Is that what you think? I don’t want you for a night. I want you forever.

You want Caer.

"She lives in you. Your soul is hers, and its beauty and purity are unchanged."

"Purity? She betrayed the man she loved. There’s nothing pure about that, and I will not make the same mistake."

His eyes narrowed, and a muscle worked in his jaw. I am not a mistake.

My heart twisted. Hurting him was like hurting myself. I…I didn’t mean that. Lorcan…

His shoulders relaxed as a sigh escaped his lips. For most of my life, I’ve wandered the Otherworld. Alone. Lost. But every time you speak my name, I’m found. It’s you I want, Ashling. And you want me, too. I know it.

He was right. Part of me did want him, and the attraction was physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.

Praise for Judith Sterling

"Drop what you’re doing and read [THE CAULDRON STIRRED (Guardians of Erin, Book One)] now!"

~N. N. Light’s Book Heaven

~awarded BEST PARANORMAL OF 2018

~*~

"Readers [of THE STONE AWAKENED (Guardians of Erin, Book Two)] will be caught up in Judith Sterling’s magical world filled with modern, relatable characters, Irish legends, mystical creatures, sweet romance, and a suspenseful mystery leaving them with hungry anticipation for the next book in the series."

~InD’Tale Magazine

~2019 RONE Award finalist

~*~

"NIGHT OF THE OWL is a sweeping, romantic time travel adventure and the best book of the series…[Sterling] brings such detail to this historical time period, I could smell, taste, and feel everything the characters experience."

~N. N. Light’s Book Heaven

~2019 BEST TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE finalist

The Sword Unsheathed

by

Judith Sterling

Guardians of Erin, Book 3

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

The Sword Unsheathed

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Judith Sterling

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First New Adult Tea Rose Edition, 2020

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-3116-4

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3117-1

Guardians of Erin, Book 3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my dear friend, Elizabeth.

I knew from the moment we met

you were a kindred spirit,

and I will always treasure your friendship.

Chapter One

The Breasal Estate, Killarney, Ireland

Mid-March of the new year

It’s a grand soft day, thank God. Sheila, our cook, smoothed her faded red hair and turned from the dining room’s tall, velvet-draped windows. Outside, a pervasive, silvery mist had settled over the land.

Beside her, my sister Deirdre scrunched up her mouth and nose. Wet, you mean. She glanced my way. Your kind of day, Ash.

Yup. The aromas of a full Irish breakfast, of smoked pork and butter-fried potatoes, lured me like siren song to the mahogany sideboard, and my stomach rumbled as I eyed the choices: fried eggs, sausage, the thick salty bacon known as rashers, hash browns, baked beans, fried tomatoes, black pudding, white toast, and soda bread. This is awesome, Sheila. Thanks.

Not a bother. Sheila patted Deirdre’s arm. If you’ve a mouth on you, fill your plate before your brothers come and eat the lot of it.

I’m on it. Deirdre joined me and cooed over the rashers in one of the silver chafing dishes as Sheila left the room.

I loaded my plate with food and headed for the table. I wonder if Hugh’s gonna be here this morning.

Who knows? She sat down beside me with a crowded plate of her own and pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears. He’s skipped breakfast all week.

Does he seem quieter to you lately? I peppered my eggs.

Now that you mention it, yeah. Like he’s brooding about something. He’s gone a lot, too. She smothered her toast with strawberry jam.

At least he’s here some of the time, which is more than we can say for Aengus. An image of my golden-haired boyfriend’s gorgeous face surfaced in my mind, which is the only place he’d appeared since Christmas Eve. Our parting conversation reverberated for the millionth time.

I can’t do this. Not again. Pain and fear tinged his soulful blue eyes.

Do what?

Lose you.

Thank God for the Christmas gift he sent. It was tangible proof he hadn’t given up on me. Yet.

Earth to Ashling. Deirdre’s voice penetrated my heavy thoughts.

I blinked. Sorry. I bit into the soda bread, and the perfect tang of buttermilk captured my taste buds.

It’s okay. I know you’re worried, but Aengus is out doing the same thing Hugh and Brigit are half the time…looking for Mom and Dad. It had become the Breasal family’s top priority after our parents’ disappearance on Halloween night.

The frustration that frayed my nerves—which I struggled so hard to hide—bubbled over, and I sighed. But they always come back. Aengus hasn’t shown his face in almost three months.

They’d been full months. Under Brigit’s guidance, Deirdre and I used our newfound powers to help a good many people. We also supported Sheila’s granddaughter Shannon as she mourned her recently deceased father, all the while fearing the loss of our own parents. And of course, the demands of schoolwork never ceased.

My sister jabbed a sausage with her fork. Well, you can’t blame him for being pissed about your trip to the Netherworld. You asked his nemesis to take you there.

Don’t remind me.

We haven’t seen Lorcan since that night either.

My stomach lurched. Time to change the subject. We’ve seen a lot of Robin, though.

More than a lot. She lifted a hand. I can’t even.

I think you can.

Her fork plunked onto her plate. Don’t go there. He’s a gancanagh.

A reformed one, to hear him tell it.

Oh, he’ll tell anyone who listens, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for real love. Unconsciously, she ran the fingers of one hand over the diamond bracelet on her other wrist, the same bracelet Robin had given her as a birthday present. Then she blinked, snatched her fork, and stabbed a wedge of tomato. Speaking of love…thank God Branna’s not avoiding Conall anymore.

Yeah, but he’s still hanging in limbo, wondering how she really feels.

Christmas was a banner holiday for us Donoghues. Not! After our younger brother declared his love for the girl of his dreams, she begged him to forget it and remain her friend. She might as well have ripped his heart from his chest, thrown it in a blender, and served it as a smoothie to The Fates. Still, Branna was a sweet soul, and I had the feeling her reaction stemmed from a source none of us grasped.

What’s up? Kian bustled into the room, followed by his twin. Their mops of brown hair begged for the kindness of a comb.

Giving no clue he’d heard our conversation, Conall grabbed a plate from the sideboard and gave his brother a pointed look. Tell them about your dream.

Kian shrugged. If you say so. Plate in hand, he turned to us. I dreamed I was a monk…in a monastery.

Deirdre contorted her lips. "That is where they keep monks, after all."

Kian made a face. Do you wanna hear this or not?

Yeah, sure. Go ahead.

"I seemed to be in a scriptorium, and there was another monk with me. He didn’t look like Conall, but I knew it was him."

And?

And nothing. That’s all I remember. He turned away and started piling eggs onto his plate.

There is, too, an ‘and,’ Conall said over his shoulder. "I woke up right before he did and heard him talking in his sleep. In Old Irish."

I almost choked on my tea.

Deirdre frowned. Like Ash used to do?

Yup. With a crammed plate and glass of orange juice, Conall claimed a seat at the table.

How can you be sure? she pressed.

I just am.

I mirrored her frown. Conall’s intuition was as firm as fact. Kian, I’ll bet you were dreaming about a past life.

Deirdre pointed her fork at me. We don’t know that.

Hugh said the Sword of Light had something to do with the soul’s memory, and we’re less than a week from the spring equinox.

When I’ll get my full powers. Kian flashed a smile as he sat next to Conall. His food and milk were close to overflowing.

I nodded. "If I can dream of a past life, why can’t Kian?"

I guess you’re right. Deirdre spoke through a mouthful of food, then swallowed. No fair, though. He remembers a lot more from his past-life dream than you do from yours.

My chest tightened. "Maybe it’s better if I don’t remember."

Two identical pairs of green eyes watched me from across the table, and our sister did the unthinkable: she dropped a piece of bacon to focus all her attention on me. My cheeks burned from the scrutiny.

Kian cocked an eyebrow. Why? Knowledge is power, as they say.

Deirdre threw him a glance. Who exactly are ‘they’?

Lots of people. Francis Bacon, for one.

Well, anyone with ‘bacon’ in his name is okay with me.

Kian rolled his eyes, then returned his focus to me. Seriously, Ash. Don’t you want to know what really happened with Aengus and that Lorcan guy way back when?

Yes. No. If there was even a small part of my soul that hurt Aengus on purpose, I didn’t want to know about it. His take on my dreams during those first days in Ireland rushed back to me.

Perhaps your mind is protecting you.

From what?

Painful memories. Heartache your soul can’t forget.

Ashling? The thread of concern in Conall’s voice called me back to the present. His penetrating stare demanded an answer.

I didn’t have one. Pushing back my chair, I stood. I have to go.

Deirdre raised her eyebrows. Go? You’ve barely touched your breakfast.

See you upstairs. I strode to the door.

But—

I need to start my English assignment. And I didn’t need to wallow in my conflicting emotions for two different, yet equally alluring, Irishmen.

****

That night found me hovering above a massive, semicircular prehistoric fort at the edge of a cliff roughly 300 feet above the swish and swoosh of the ocean. Three concentric, terraced stone walls enclosed it, and beyond the third ring, an army of jagged stone slabs stood vigil. A large, tan tent dominated the innermost enclosure.

The all-encompassing twilight was telling, as were my bare feet and blue satin nightshirt, which I’d worn to bed. I was in the Otherworld, courtesy of an astral trip. But where exactly?

I had to know.

Determined, I floated to the ground in front of the tent’s entrance. A curious sense of déjà vu washed over me, and every inch of my flesh tingled with a hidden memory.

I’ve been here before. I’m sure of it.

I entered the tent, and a plush Persian carpet cushioned my feet as I explored. Sumptuous in texture and color, the interior seemed strangely familiar. There were silks, satins, and velvets in shades of gold, burgundy, ruby red, dark blue, and emerald green. Curtains, cushions, and pillows aplenty. Spherical, perforated hanging lanterns. There was even a Moroccan tray table of polished brass decorated with an arabesque pattern; atop it sat two crystal glasses and a matching decanter filled with brown liquid, as well as a compote containing what appeared to be cocoa-dusted chocolate truffles.

I could get used to this, I said aloud.

Could you?

I jumped, then whirled around. Lorcan stood an arm’s length away. As always, he wore his black, Regency Era greatcoat, breeches, and riding boots. A question, deeper than the one he’d asked, glowed in his ice blue eyes.

I trembled.

His eyes darkened. Are you cold?

No. Are you? A heartbeat after I spoke, I cringed inwardly. What a stupid reply!

He shook his head. Glossy black hair swayed, teasing his broad shoulders. Not particularly. A smile tugged at his full, sensuous lips as he gestured to the table. Chocolate? Cognac?

I clenched my fists, steeling myself against his charms. No, thank you, and you can wipe that smile off your face. How can I trust you after what happened Christmas Eve?

What do you mean?

You left me alone in Aoife’s castle. Where did you disappear to?

He blinked, and for a moment, his long eyelashes stole my focus. Ashling, you know I went to investigate the noise we heard.

And never came back.

"I did come back."

Really? I tilted my head