The Spear Alight

By Judith Sterling

Ashling Donoghue has almost lost hope of finding her missing parents. As her faith wanes, her love for two men waxes, rending her heart and causing friction in the Breasal household. The time has come to make a choice, to create a future untarnished by doubt. But how can she embrace the light when lured by the soft seduction of shadow?

At last, her brother Conall channels the Spear of Illumination. He’s a natural shapeshifter, and he sees through illusions in both the material world and the Otherworld…not a moment too soon. An ancient evil has surfaced, and it threatens all worlds.

Only the Donoghues can save Ireland. They must face their greatest fears and act as one to fulfill their destinies as guardians of Erin.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Mar 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781509240340

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

All aspiration toward sleep left me. I needed company. Now.

Lorcan.

Bad idea. Far worse than waking up my sister. But he wouldn’t judge. In fact, he’d probably be glad to see me. Me, Ashling Donoghue, pariah and maven of mistakes. I’d made a million of them. What was one more?

I imagined the interior of Lorcan’s tent at Dun Aengus on Inishmore. Then I flexed my will and was there, surrounded by rich colors, sumptuous fabrics, and perforated hanging lanterns. The intricately patterned Persian carpet felt soft and soothing to my bare feet.

Was he in bed? There was one safe way to find out. Lorcan? Are you here?

Ashling? His silken voice, warm and rousing, flowed from the bedroom and washed over me.

Yes. It’s me.

A heartbeat later, he appeared between the drawn, red curtains that separated his bed from the main section of the tent. He wore a black velvet dressing gown and an expression of mingled surprise and pleasure. With relaxed strides, he closed the gap between us. You’re the last person I expected to see tonight. His heated gaze roamed over me.

Too late, I realized I was wearing a thin, white night shirt that refused to cover anything below my upper thighs. I grabbed the hem on both sides and pulled downward…in vain. I never planned to come.

Why did you? His shoulder-length black hair looked as luxurious as his robe. I stifled the urge to touch both.

I needed a friend.

Praise for Judith Sterling

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

~ Best Paranormal of 2018, N. N. Light’s Book Heaven

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.

~ 2019 RONE Award finalist, InD’tale Magazine

[RETURN OF THE RAVEN (The Novels of Ravenwood, Book Five)] is a magical love story…If you are a fan of time travel romance, then this series is a must read!

~ Crowned Heart of Excellence, InD’tale Magazine

The Spear Alight

by

Judith Sterling

Guardians of Erin, Book 4

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 Spear Alight

COPYRIGHT © 2022 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 Edition, 2022

Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4033-3

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4034-0

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This one’s for Donna, my dear friend and sister author whose love for this series kept me inspired. May she stay inspired, too!

Chapter One

The Breasal Estate, Killarney, Ireland

Midmorning on the summer solstice

Well, that bites. Disappointment threaded my sister Deirdre’s voice, and her outstretched arm dropped to her side. She scowled at the ethereal threshold before us.

Upright and unmoving, the arched door was adorned with Celtic knotwork and four glowing oghams: coll, ruis, dair, and idad. Those symbols were part of the ancient Irish alphabet and corresponded not only to marks we and our identical twin brothers had on our bodies but to the four magical treasures of Ireland: the cauldron, stone, sword, and spear whose ancient energy we’d begun to channel. Around the door’s frame, luminous silver and gold letters floated on the air, spelling out the names of the Druids of Danu—Semias, Morfesa, Uiscias, and Esras—creators of the original treasures.

Despite high hopes of visiting the higher dimension called the Other Side, aka Heaven, the portal remained shut, leaving us right where we started: surrounded by walnut furniture and map-covered, blue-gray walls in the Middleworld version of Hugh Breasal’s study. That middle realm, together with the Netherworld below it and the Upperworld above, were all part of the Otherworld, which vibrated at lower frequencies than the Other Side.

Hugh, the silver-haired yet ageless Dagda or Good God of Celtic legend, and the scarlet-clad leprechaun Eamon watched us for a long moment, then swapped meaningful glances. From the looks on their drooping faces, they were exceedingly underwhelmed.

Conall, the younger twin, removed his hand from the door’s idad ogham and met our sister’s gaze. We knew it was a long shot.

Kian, the older by one minute, expelled a sigh and ran fingers through his thick brown hair. Guess we’ll have to try again when we’re closer to Halloween. Sorry, Hugh.

Don’t worry about it. The Dagda waved a hand dismissively. Thank you for trying.

Anytime. I flashed him a smile, then turned to Conall. On the bright side, you have your full powers.

His green eyes, so like our mother’s, sparkled. Finally. The last of us to receive said powers, he had waited an interminable eight months since I first got mine. But from the moment he woke that morning of the summer solstice, he could shift between dimensions and felt aligned with the Spear of Illumination. We knew it would help him see through illusions, even more than he already did, and looked forward to learning just what that meant, to us and to the Irish people he was destined to serve.

Deirdre tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears. Yeah, and it’s not your fault this thing is being stubborn. She motioned to the closed door. We might as well drop back into 3D.

In silent assent, we all shifted into the physical world of the third dimension. The portal vanished, reverting to a mere drawing on the last page of the 6th-century St. Brendan manuscript, which lay open on the floor. Bright sunlight filtered in through the study windows, replacing the Otherworld’s perpetual twilight, and a faint trace of tobacco teased my nostrils.

Eamon bent over, closed the manuscript, and lifted it off the ground. I’ll just bring this back to Bodb. He disappeared, presumably teleporting straight to the Rock of Cashel in County Tipperary, the home of Hugh’s oldest child, Bodb Derg.

I looked up at the Regency Era portrait of Hugh and his other children, Aengus and Brigit, which hung above the dormant fireplace. Bodb might’ve been painted alongside them, if his relationship with Hugh hadn’t been strained for more than a millennium. Still, Hugh trusted him to keep the manuscript safe from Aoife, a scheming wind demon and long-time enemy, and I didn’t doubt Bodb could do it.

Inevitably, the likeness of Aengus, of his golden hair and beloved face, drew my gaze. Pangs of guilt and longing pierced my heart. Two months had passed since I kissed his nemesis, Lorcan…and Aengus saw us together. I cringed every time I thought of it, and I thought of it a lot. I loved them both, but both had stayed away since that fiasco of a night. I’d gone from no guy to two at once, then back to none again. I didn’t blame them, only myself. Luckily, Brigit and Hugh treated me with the same respect and kindness they always had, which meant Aengus had kept silent on the matter. Of my siblings, only Deirdre knew about the fateful kiss.

Oh, Aengus…

Would he ever forgive me? Could I forgive myself?

If Lorcan would just stay away…

But I didn’t want that either. Aye, there’s the rub.

Right, we should celebrate. The eagerness in Hugh’s tone breached my thoughts. I tore my gaze from the portrait and regarded him instead. It had been months since he’d expressed such enthusiasm, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were a welcome sight.

Deirdre folded her arms. We just failed miserably, and as far as I can tell, we’re no closer to finding our mom and dad. What’s there to celebrate?

She had a point. Our parents, who disappeared without a trace on Halloween night, had just missed another milestone: my online graduation from virtual high school. My stomach hurt if I allowed myself to think of it too long.

Hugh’s smile held fondness and compassion. "We can celebrate life itself. The fact you all have your powers. The great number of people you’ve helped and will help."

Kian nodded. You’re right. What do you have in mind?

Today is the longest day of the year and the sunniest one we’ve seen in ages. I’ll ask Sheila to make us a picnic lunch, and we’ll go up to Ladies View and Moll’s Gap.

Ladies View…oh, right. Where Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting stopped to look at the scenery in the 1860s. Kian’s head for history was amazing.

Precisely. I’m sure Brigit will want to join us. Shannon and Branna are welcome too. And Robin, of course.

Shannon was Kian’s Irish girlfriend: highly intelligent, bespectacled, and the granddaughter of Sheila, our cook extraordinaire. Both she and her grandmother enjoyed comfortable apartments in Breasal Manor’s old servants’ quarters.

Branna—also Irish, with long black hair, expressive violet eyes, and psychic ability—had fallen for Conall. She and her mother Patricia, the manor’s housekeeper, lived in a cozy cottage on the grounds of the estate.

Robin’s cottage was nestled in a lush valley of Tír na nÓg. Among his many charms were a keen sense of humor and boy band good looks that included hazel eyes, dimples, and chestnut hair. He’d been drawn to Deirdre in two of her past lives and had stolen her heart once again. Not that she’d told him so. She’d fought the fall every step of the way, for he was a gancanagh, a love talker whose kind seduced humans and then—when the victims declared their love—bit the stem of their pipes and left their prey to languish and die. Not what you’d call an ideal boyfriend. Yet his affection for her seemed sincere, and he’d befriended us all. And like Shannon, Branna, and Brigit, he readily agreed to join us for the proposed picnic.

The peaceful interlude did us all good. We still carried our cares deep inside, but the timeless, panoramic view of Killarney’s lakes, of light and shadow playing tag across the windswept mountains, brought a much-needed sense of well-being. Deirdre and Robin joked and laughed like best buddies, while Kian and Conall basked in the glow of their newfound loves. Hugh smiled more during that one afternoon than he had all month, and his strong-willed, redheaded daughter even kissed his cheek. Further delights issued from the picnic basket: Ballymaloe glazed ham and cheddar sandwiches, mini chicken and mushroom pies, cheese-and-onion crisps, cherry tomatoes, and strawberries with cream.

The wellspring of Sheila’s kitchen prowess flowed on through dinner that evening. I relished each bite of my avocado salad, barbecued honey-and-mustard-glazed lamb chops, new potatoes with mint and chives, and blackberry marble cheesecake. Only afterward, as I waddled out of the dining room, did I consider the potential benefit of smaller portions.

First thing tomorrow. Or at least, first thing next week. Maybe.

For now, the expansive yet cozy library lured me into its literary fold. Sated and presumably growing stouter by the minute, I spent the next half hour seated at the leather-lined table, playing solitaire. Conall, Brigit, and Hugh lounged in cushioned chairs close by, reading in companionable silence. Kian, Shannon, Deirdre, and Robin had gone to the pictures (the movie theater).

Any word from Greagoir or Aengus? Conall’s smooth, quiet voice rippled the stillness of the room.

I looked up from my cards. He’d directed the question at Hugh, but Brigit’s cheeks flushed in response. The mention of Greagoir—a dragon who often assumed a human form, to which she’d been attracted for millennia—usually had that effect. He was good friends with Aengus, and his four uncles were the guardians of the watchtowers at the Netherworld’s prison.

Hugh closed the book on his lap and gave Conall his full attention. Why do you ask?

You said this morning they’re working on a spell to keep Crom Cruach locked away, and they’ll need your help to cast it.

Brigit rubbed her arms, as though a chill raced through her. I wish you wouldn’t speak his name.

Her father gave her an emphatic look. Why shouldn’t he? Crom Cruach is aware of us already.

Don’t remind me.

The fact that she was nervous frayed my nerves, too. I swallowed hard. Hugh, why do they need your help to cast the spell?

He looked my way. I was the one who originally imprisoned him. If they tap into my energy, their spell will be that much stronger, and with any luck, permanent. He returned his focus to my brother. I expect they’ll call me soon.

Conall closed his own book. Is that why you’re worried? Because you haven’t heard from them yet?

Who says I’m worried?

I can feel it.

Hugh leaned forward in his chair. Can you?

Even if I couldn’t, you’ve been staring at your book for the last half hour and haven’t turned the page once.

Brigit smiled at him and pushed her flowing, ginger locks over her shoulder. Very observant, Conall. A mixture of admiration and pride suffused her lilting tone. "It escaped even my notice."

Avoiding all of our gazes, Hugh set his book on a side table and stood. I’ve a mind to go and see about it.

The spell? Conall’s eyes narrowed. Or something else?

What could be more important?

Good question. Clearly, something was, and Conall had picked up on it.

Brigit crossed her long legs, which were hidden in tan slacks. Let me know what way it goes.

I will. Hugh cast cursory glances toward me and my brother. Enjoy your evening. The next instant, he disappeared.

I abandoned the cards and turned in my chair to face the others. Is it just me, or is he hiding something?

My father is always hiding something. Brigit frowned, seemingly deep in thought.

Conall sat up straight. Not to change the subject, but…I just heard a female voice in my head.

Did you recognize it?

No, but I heard every word she said. ‘The cliff path from Cushendall to Layd Church.’

I knitted my brow. Could it have anything to do with Hugh?

I don’t think so.

Brigit uncrossed her legs. "I know that place. It’s on the northeast coast, just across from southwest Scotland. Do you