Fallen Redemption (The Trihune Series Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  FALLEN REDEMPTION

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  FALLEN REDEMPTION

  The TRIHUNE Series: Book 1

  RB AUSTIN

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  FALLEN REDEMPTION

  Copyright©2013

  RB AUSTIN

  Cover Design by Melody A. Pond

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-260-5

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To all those in need:

  Forgiveness is never too far away.

  You deserve it.

  Don’t ever doubt it.

  Acknowledgements

  To Pam, my awesome critique partner, whether-you-wanted-to-be-or-not. For reading every edition of FR page by page, sometimes more than once. For the long emails. For being my therapist. I would never “choose” to “lose” your support.

  To Kathy, Tim, and Cheryl for answering the many, “Hey, what do you think about this?” emails.

  To Brian, for the support and strength to see my dream into reality.

  To Skye, you’re beautiful. Never stop dreaming and reaching. I love you.

  To Cade, you were the first. I won’t forget you. Thanks for talking to me.

  To Soul Mate Publishing, you’ve given me a microphone. A million times over, thank you.

  Terms from the Trihune Language

  ach A brother.

  adohn A term of respect; means lord of the house or ruler.

  bahshrett The one being who is your true equal, the other half of your soul. One cannot fully live as the Creator intended until he or she is found.

  Behnshma Supernatural beings created by the Sonh to be protectors to the Followers. There are seven Behnshma Septs, or divisions, around the earth.

  chemda A term of endearment; means precious or sweetheart.

  choghen A priest.

  ebhed A servant employed by Trihune members. For their servitude, ebhed receive a longer lifespan void of illness and protection for themselves and family members.

  Fallen Dead beings created by Apollyon that must consume souls in order to survive.

  Followers Humans created by the Creator.

  nheqeba A female.

  pnachum A ritual employed when a Trihune member severely wrongs another member.

  Shaydes Supernatural beings created by the Holyspiryt. Shaydes guard the gate between the heavens and the underworld. They can be called upon by other Trihune members in time of need as a last resort.

  Trinyty Comprised of the Fathyr, the Sonh, and the Holyspiryt. Created by the Creator to be His guardians and confidants. With the Creator, they are one, sharing his innermost thoughts, and He theirs.

  Trihune Comprised of Behnshmas, Woyrs, and Shaydes. Created by the Trinyty to be the true sacred defenders of the Creator and His Followers.

  Woyrs Supernatural beings created by the Fathyr. Woyrs appear human but show their true form when near Apollyon or his Fallen.

  zakaar A male.

  Prologue

  Llangwyllog, Anglesey

  Wales

  1729

  Caderyn yanked on the reins. His fevered mind barely registered the horse’s protested whinny. He threw his legs over the side and slid down. Wiping the sweat from his face with his coat sleeve, he staggered to the small wooden house.

  “I need the doctor.” His hoarse cry bellowed through the night. He pounded on the door. “Doctor!”

  Fist raised and ready to knock again, the door opened two inches. “Are you the doctor?” A wave of dizziness swept through him. Clutching the doorframe, splinters dug into his fingertips. He. Would. Not. Faint.

  “Are you the doctor?” Caderyn peered through the opening and spied the shape of a portly, short man.

  “Yes.” A thin, high voice replied.

  “I need you to come with me. My wife. She’s sick. Smallpox.”

  The doctor’s thoughts slammed into his head. Hurry . . . Quick . . . Shut door . . . breathe on you . . . touch you. “I can’t help you. The whole town is infected.”

  “Please. She’s with child.”

  The doctor hesitated . . . unborn . . . saved . . . taken from the womb . . . No . . . risky . . . blood . . . contamination . . . Not worth my life . . .

  Caderyn placed his hands against the door and pushed. Sarah needed help. His unborn babe needed help. The door swung free.

  The doctor stumbled back, eyes wide. His expression changed to horror the moment he saw the red spots gracing Caderyn’s left cheekbone.

  Ah . . . infected . . . Get the . . . The barrel of a rifle poked into Caderyn’s chest.

  “Leave. My. House.” The doctor enunciated each word with a jab of the gun.

  “Please,” Caderyn begged, stumbling out the door. “There’s no one else. My wife—”

  “I can’t help you.” The doctor jammed the gun into Caderyn’s chest one last time, forcing him further away, then slammed the door.

  Caderyn lurched forward and pounded on the door. No. No. No. “You must help me. She’s with child.” A bout of coughing racked his body. He slapped his palm against the door. “I need help!”

  Caderyn pushed from the door. His chest burned with every breath. It took three tries to get in the saddle. The doctor had said
the whole town was infected. Where else could he go?

  Wrapping his coat around his large frame, he hunched his shoulders. The chills were back. Spinning the horse, he kicked him into a gallop. He would care for Sarah himself.

  Caderyn struggled to keep his eyes open against the rushing wind. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept. Between burying his daughters and taking care of Sarah, he hadn’t been able to rest when the sickness began to mark him. No matter, though. He was thirty-four and lived a long enough life. His unborn babe deserved a chance at living and he’d do everything possible to make sure it happened.

  The wind whipped at his eyes making them tear. Raising the collar of his jacket, his fingers brushed over the marks on his face that rose that morning. Sally Mae had bumps all over her face and body before she died. Little Laura died two days after her fever begun. Sarah was just beginning to show the red spots.

  Shivering violently, sweat beaded on his forehead. Burning up but unable to get warm. He had no energy to steer. It was too dark to see a horse’s length in front of him anyways. Laying his head down on the mane, he closed his eyes. This would offer a reprieve from the wind until his eyes adjusted. He’d lie here but for a moment.

  Caderyn woke to the sensation of falling then the jolt of the hard, cold ground as he slammed into it, bounced once, then lay still. Breath sawed in and out of his lungs. His body and head ached. Rolling over, a groan pushed from his lips. Sitting or standing seemed an impossible task at the moment. Sarah. He gritted his teeth. Get up. Get up, damn, you. Bright light shone in his face and he covered his eyes with his hands. Did the moon break free of the clouds? Had it even been out? He stilled. Slowly dropped his hands, squinting at the sky. The light was so blinding he couldn’t see past it. Was this the sun?

  Fear sliced through him. How long had he slept? The horse should have made it to the house by dawn. Had they turned somewhere? He tried to roll back over. Urgent, sloppy attempts to get onto all fours. Where was he? Sarah could be dying as he lay here. She could be—no—he had faith. The Creator would save her life. She carried one of His precious children.

  Suddenly the bright light dimmed. Twisting his head to the sky, he searched for the proof it was still night. Please let it still be night.

  He froze. Clouds didn’t cover the moon.

  There was no moon. No sun.

  It was a ghost. A glowing male body with long white hair stood next to him. Its face was indiscernible in the light.

  Caderyn trembled with fear. His boot heels dug into the ground, forming grooves in the dirt as he tried to move and went nowhere. The ghost laid his hand upon Caderyn’s upper arm. Mouth open, Caderyn inhaled to scream. Before he could utter a sound, a wave of peace swept through him. Strong and fierce.

  There was no fear. No aches. No worries. Just quiet nothingness. He stiffened. Things were never quiet for him. Not with his curse. But he heard none of the ghost’s internal thoughts. Was he cured by its touch?

  “You’ve not been cured of what you call your curse, son.” The ghost’s voice was deep, methodic. A warm blanket on a cold, winter night.

  You can hear me?

  “Yes.”

  Caderyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Why can’t I hear you?” His voice cracked. Licking his lips he wished—his canteen appeared a hand’s length away. He startled.

  “Don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm, Caderyn O’Cearnaigh of Llangwyllog.”

  “Who are you?”

  The ghost held out his hand. It no longer appeared ghost-like or glowing. The hand was attached to a solid arm and a solid body. Maybe the thing next to him wasn’t a ghost.

  Caderyn glanced at the offering then into the man’s piercing blue eyes. He laid his hand into the outstretched palm. Their skin connected. The glow returned. Panic rose. Frantic now, Caderyn tried to pull free. The man tightened his hold.

  He braced himself for fiery heat, but the glow only warmed. When it encased his body completely, he began to hear. And see. Not only thoughts and images of the present but ones from the past and in the future. His mind raced to understand what he saw. Beings. Not of this world. Glowing. Like the man next to him. Holy. His breath caught. It was the Creator. Three beings stood next to Him. No, not next. In front. Protecting Him. From Apollyon. The betrayer. These three were the Fathyr, Sonh, and Holyspiryt. Then came war. Banishment. Uprising. Creation. On both sides. The Trihune were born. More protectors. Like the man next to him. Elias. One of seven Sonhs. A Behnshma, one of three species of the Trihune.

  Elias stood, and the glow faded from Caderyn’s body.

  “Will you, Caderyn O’Cearnaigh of Llangwyllog, lead my kindred against the fight with Apollyon and lend protection to the Creator’s Followers?”

  Followers. He meant humans. Like . . . What of my Sarah and unborn child?

  “They are beyond my help.”

  On some level, he’d known his wife wouldn’t make it, but he believed, hoped. Pain consumed him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His anguished cry pierced through the night. Memories of the last weeks, months, swept through him.

  The horrible wretchedness at having to bury Sally Mae and Laura. The guilt for allowing that stranger into their home. The worry over his wife and unborn child. The pain and ache in his own body. The tautness of his upper cheek where the sickness begun its destruction.

  He opened his eyes. Could this man fix it? Elias could turn him into a Behnshma. Perhaps he could bring Sally Mae and Laura back. Caderyn’s eyes widened at the possibility. Elias could cure Sarah and the unborn babe. Caderyn would exchange his life for theirs. Gladly, he’d suffer in their place.

  “And that is why I chose you, son. But I’m terribly sorry. I cannot revive the dead.”

  “My Sarah, then?”

  “She’s on her path. I can only change what could be, not what’s already occurred.”

  What would be the point of following this man, then? A hurricane of anger ripped through his body. It stirred his blood, giving him strength. Ignoring Elias’s outstretched hand, he rose into a sitting position. Enough of this. He needed to be with Sarah for however long she had left. To feel his child move in her womb one more time.

  “I’m sorry I can’t save them.” Elias moved too fast for Caderyn to block. “But you, you can save many.” He grasped Caderyn’s palm, trapping it in between his hands.

  Again, image after image flashed through Caderyn’s mind. This time quick, but vivid. Each burned into his brain.

  Horrible. Bloody. Body after body. Nothing mattered to these beasts.

  A man. His throat ripped into pieces. Eyes open and staring unseeing. Horror captured forever in his expression.

  A woman. Dead. Unclothed. Bruised neck. Legs spread wide. Blood dried on her inner thighs. Long deep cuts on her neck, wrists, and belly.

  A child. Thrown to the ground like an abandoned toy. Limbs twisted out of place. Blood pooled underneath its tiny body.

  Every emotion the victims possessed before death was Caderyn’s. Pain. Terror. Hopelessness. He was the one being pursued, tortured, beaten, violated. Falling to the ground on all fours, he panted for air. Elias was no longer touching him but the images didn’t stop. These people had not been saved. Apollyon and his creation, the Fallen, had slaughtered these victims. Their demise had been drawn-out. So much violence. They were monsters. Murderers.

  The pictures changed. Caderyn saw himself. Different, yet the same. Stronger. He knew how to kill. Protect. Fighting the Fallen he wielded a large curved sword as if it was an extension of his arm. Moving with grace and speed he didn’t now possess, he saved an old man. A young boy. A family. A couple.

  Five against one. Kill after kill. Fallen after Fallen. He rescued. Defended. Guarded.

  A woman with child. He swung his sword high and in one swoop cut off a Fallen’s head. It disappea
red in a gray cloud. The woman gazed at him. Tears ran down her face. Her hand curved protectively over her extended belly. Fear faded, replaced by relief, thankfulness, and gratitude.

  The last emotion hit Caderyn deep in his stomach. The woman was grateful he’d been there. She was alive because he’d been there.

  The image flickered out and the mind storm stopped. Caderyn’s head hung low in between his arms. His chest ached from panting. He wanted to weep.

  How could he choose any other path? How could he let that woman and all the others down? He wanted to go back and save those who were already lost.

  What emerged what a whisper, but he knew Elias would hear him even if he chose not to speak. “Yes.”

  Caderyn was whirled onto his back in the dirt. He watched two of Elias’s teeth grow in size, sharpening at the ends. Terror stuttered his heart. Striking fast, Elias’s teeth punched through the skin at his neck.

  Four days later

  Caderyn opened his eyes and found the world changed. No, it wasn’t the world that was different.

  He saw the hairs on each individual blade of grass. Heard the soft flutter of a butterfly’s wings as it flew overhead. Listened to, and understood, the thoughts of the ants in the ground and the birds in the trees. He was more than ten times stronger than before, yet his emotions had not changed. Worry constantly plagued him. And fear. What would he find at home?

  “You cannot leave, Caderyn. You are not ready.”

  Since he’d woken, every second passed as a minute, every hour was a half a day. He stayed in this cave with Elias growing stronger while Sarah was alone growing weaker. “Can you guarantee my Sarah’s survival if I stay here?”

  Elias didn’t reply.

  Caderyn left, starting at a slow jog. Elias told him his smallpox had vanished. He’d never get sick and wounds would heal fast. Nor would he tire as quickly either, apparently. His body responded to the jog as if it was a leisurely stroll. Needing no other encouragement, he broke free from usual human constraints. Trees blurred in his peripheral vision. Caderyn passed birds as they flew overhead. If his horse were next to him he’d have surpassed the animal as well.