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The Darkest Hour: Tales from Fadreama Book 1

by Candace N. Coonan

327 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1655; ISBN 1-4120-1277-5; US$26.50, C$30.20, EUR22.00, £15.50

The Kingdom of Algernon is in great danger and only four young girls can save it. Enter the magical world of Fadreama, filled with wizards, fairies, trolls and perilous adventure.

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About the Book      About the Author      Table of Contents or Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

All 15-year-old Alice and her sisters Emma, Clara and Lily wanted to know was where they came from. Who had brought them to their secluded orphanage home and why did they each wear a mysterious golden pendant? The question seemed simple enough, but when posed to their strict headmistress Ms. Craddock, the girls discover far more than they expected.

Now Alice and her sisters find themselves on a dangerous question to free the kingdom of Algernon from the grip of a demon ruler, before he conquers all the lands of Fadreama. Guided by a powerful wizard, the girls make their way across the kingdom meeting friend and foe alike, all the while realizing that destiny never brings the expected. Pursued by a witch and running out of time, Alice must learn how to harness the power of her inner light in order to stop the terror before it is too late.

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About the Author

Born in Alberta, Canada, Canadace Naomi Coonan has been writing for as long as she can remember. What started out as a simple hobby soon turned into a lifelong passion. Candace began her writing career with poetry and short stories, but quickly realized that she had much longer tales to tell. Novel writing allowed Candace the freedom to create complex plots, characters and worlds. Though she still writes poetry and short stories, they more often than not relate to one of her novels. Currently Candace is taking her B.A. in English with the University of Calgary and Red Deer College.

For more about the author and Fadreama, please check out www.geocities.com/candacecoonan

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Table of Contents or Excerpts

The Darkest Hour

The darkest hour is just before dawn,
When all seems lost and hope long gone.

As the sky turns its deepest hue,
And the light of the sun is far from view,
That is the time you must stand tall,
Never looking back, for that*s how you fall.

Hold on to hope and banish your tears!
Now is the moment to conquer your fears!

When all seems lost,
And you've bowed to your knees,
Feel on your face,
The easterly breeze.

For in the sky,
The dawn is breaking,
And the very foundations of evil are shaking.
Rejoice and weep,
Celebrate while you may,
The night is banished,
For another day.

CHAPTER ONE

Strange Dream

SHE WAS SCREAMING hysterically and racing about the cluttered and disarrayed nursery. Her plump face was flushed from fear and her eyes protruded painfully as they darted wildly around, like those of a frightened bird.

"The heir! The heir!" was all the frightened woman could scream. She tore at her grey hair, sending strands flying in all directions. Four young girls, each with long brown hair and blue eyes (with the exception of the smallest girl, who had brown eyes) watched the scene before them with absolute horror. Their little hands where linked tightly to one another, as large, silent tears rolled down their pudgy red cheeks. In the frantic woman's hurry, she roughly knocked the girls onto the blue mosaic floor, without seeming to notice. None of the girls uttered a sound at this rude display, but merely shivered at the chaos around them.

Outside, the sounds of stones crumbling and people screaming seemed to meld into one horrid droning hum that tore one's very soul. Vibrations of impacts on lower levels of the castle shook the nursery, sending colourful paintings crashing to the floor, in a shower of wooden splinters. The scent of smoke wafted in through the window and hung in the air, burning the nostrils of all those present.

The smallest girl wiped her burning eyes with the back of her dirt smeared hand, which tears paved black trails through. The little girl looked to be no more than two years of age, while the others did not appear to be much older. Another great tremor rocked the nursery and the tiny girl's gaze swept across the room to a baby boy of about one year, who was kneeling on the window seat, chubby hands covering his ears. The boy scrunched up his face and began to wail pitifully, his cries mingling with those of terror from the outside.

Suddenly, the smallest girl wretched her hand away from the other girls and began to race towards the crying boy, whose clear blue eyes were drowning in tears. The girl took the boy's tiny hand in her little one and placed it on her cheek, as a mother would do to her upset baby. The boy's sobbing subsided slightly, as he flung himself down into the girl's arms. The two children clung to each other for a mere second, before the great woman swept the boy up into her large arms.

Immediately he commenced screaming once again and waved his arms in the direction of the girl on the ground, who was nearly lost under the woman's bustling, but charred skirts.

"Lis! Lis!" the child screamed and kicked in the strong woman's arms, as she put a restraining hand on the black locks of his head.

"Ssssh!" she shushed him, none too gently. "Someone will hear! We must flee little one!" With that, the woman raced out the nursery door with as much speed as she had entered, leaving the four girls completely alone.

"Edric!" came the mournful cry of the little girl who had held him. She collapsed on the floor in a huddle of tears and was soon joined by the other three girls.

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the hall where the frightened woman had exited. The sounds of a multitude of footsteps, like that of an army resounded off the walls.

"Halt, in the name of the Dark One!" ordered a deep male voice.

"NO!" came the plump woman's horrified scream. "You can't have him! I promised the Queen I'd get him to safety!" Her tone was defiant, but a tinge of defeat laced its edge.

The sounds of a great struggle could then be heard, with the woman wailing relentlessly and the little boy screeching for 'Lis'. Suddenly a muffled thump resounded in the corridor, quickly followed by the retreating taps of a number of feet.

The four girls stood huddled in the nursery, whispering, "Mommy. Daddy."

Then without warning, the youngest girl once again broke ranks with the others and charged forth into the corridor through which the screaming boy had been taken. "Edric!" she called wildly in her high baby voice. Without fully understanding, she ran towards the heap on the ground, which had once been her nurse. She shook the woman's hips with little avail and only succeeded in seeing a sight no child should ever have to witness. The girl's eyes went wide with terror and she shrieked the scream of a thousand deaths.

Then out of nowhere, a figure appeared from the shadows of the hall and with great agility, scooped up the petrified girl and bore her swiftly back to the nursery. The other three girls appeared to recognize the man for they went into his arms quite willingly. The man squeezed the four children tightly and said, "We must be patient. Now is not yet the time." After this, things start to get cloudy and distorted, as they do when heat rises from the ground. Images begin to flash rapidly, one after another... strange, eerie images. A bearded man... a bright light... a strange tune... a jewelled crown... then darkness.

I awoke with a start and drenched in a cold sweat. I took a few deep breaths to try and calm my rapidly beating heart, which felt as though it might burst out of my chest any second. My body trembled violently, but I knew it wasn't from cold. I had dreamed this dream a hundred times before, but I was still not used to it. I always awoke just as terrified as when the dream had appeared to me for the first time, although now I no longer got sick physically.

This nighttime event had plagued me for nearly 13 years now, incidentally the only years of my life that I could actually remember. At first it had been only every few months and then every week. Now, the horrible nocturnal vision visited me nearly every night, although as of late, it seemed to be getting clearer and more detailed. Before, I hadn't been able to make out what the people were saying. Everything had more or less been in the form of faded images, appearing and disappearing like smoke curling above a flame. However, now I could follow everything quite easily, as though I were right there in the room as the events were unfolding. I sighed deeply. How could that be true? It was only a dream... an awful, gruesome dream. Maybe something was wrong with my mind, for me to have so disgusting and realistic nightmares. Why did my imagination take me on such a terrible journey, rather than using it's creative powers to whisk me off to some fairy realm, where I could meet a fairy prince? It simply wasn't fair. My greatest desire was to forget the contents of the dream and to shrug it off. Yet somehow, deep down inside of me, I wasn't so certain it was just a dream.

I rubbed my weary eyes and glanced around the orphanage bedroom to see if anyone else was awake. I could see all three of my sisters lying in bed, still sound asleep. Emma, the oldest at age 18, had her covers thrown off and her bottom sticking slightly in the air. Clara, who was 17, had dropped her feather pillow on the floor and was snoring peacefully. Lily, who was just a year older than me at 16, had her left leg dangling over the bed so far, that I was surprised she hadn't fallen off yet. The other fifteen or so girls in the room appeared to still be in dreamland as well, hopefully seeing things far nicer than what I had seen.

I decided that there was no use in my staying in bed when I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to fall back asleep and risk dreaming again. So slowly I pushed back my thin patchwork blanket, which I had sewn myself. As I swung my legs over the side of my bed, the rusty old thing squeaked terribly. I drew in a sharp breath, so much for being quiet. However not one soul stirred, although I thought Emma's eyes twitched. I made my way along the cold wooden floor to the window and pulled up a small stool. I breathed deeply as I swung the window shutters open.

Somehow the world always smelled fresher at dawn. The sun was just coming up through the trees to begin a new spring day. Outside, no snow remained, except perhaps in the deepest shadows where the sunlight never reached. The large trees that surrounded the glade, in which the orphanage was built, looked as though they were just about to burst open into new leaves.

Reluctantly, I reviewed the events of my awful dream, just as I had done so many times before. Surely it meant something of importance. Was my mind so creative as to conjure up such a detailed scene? Somehow I highly doubted that. For one thing, the emotions were far too intense. I could feel the burning sting of tears, the gut wrenching terror and heart breaking sensation of loneliness.

Leaning out the window for a better view of the rising sun, I heard a faint 'clank', on the windowsill. I absently glanced down at the rectangular golden pendant, which hung about my neck. Not wanting to make anymore noise, I scooped up the cool metal in my hands and stared at my reflection in the shiny gold. I saw a slender 15 year old girl, with deep brown eyes and straight brown hair, slightly mussed from a restless night. I wondered briefly if I would be considered pretty. I hadn't anything really to compare myself to, besides the other orphanage girls and my sisters. Still, I liked to think that my image wasn't all that displeasing.

I leaned further out the window, letting the cool morning breeze caress my face. Maybe my fairy prince was out this morning with his fairy court to celebrate the arrival of spring. I could fairly imagine the tiny figures dancing merrily in a ring of colourful mushrooms. I would often pretend that the handsome little fairy would see me gazing longingly out the window and upon setting eyes on me, would take me away with him to his mysterious realm. Such a lovely fantasy... I sighed. Perhaps I was capable of making up my strange dream.

Still, my life truly was full of mysteries and the golden pendant, which held my reflection, was one of them. It was a very strange piece of jewellery indeed. At the very top, my name, Alice, was engraved in flowing cursive writing. Below that, something was written in a language that was foreign to me. The words read, 'Oc Jykpea Yh Focohla'. I could read better than most of the other girls, but this writing wasn't in any language I had ever studied.

The exquisite pendant was strung upon an exceedingly long, but very sturdy and beautifully crafted chain. The entire piece was of such high quality, that I couldn't imagine why I had it. However, I was not the only one adorned with such an expensive pendant, for each of my three sisters had one, with their own names engraved upon them.

had any idea where we had received them. For as long as I could recall, my sisters and I had always worn these precious items, despite our lack of knowledge about them. Only once had I ever questioned their origins and I had not received any answers for my efforts.

When I was about eight years old, still a bold and disrespectful youngster, I had gathered all my courage and asked our strict headmistress, Ms Craddock, where the pendants had come from. She simply regarded me with the eyes of cold disapproval and stated, "They were on you when you arrived as a baby."

This was of course, not enough information for a child such as myself and I had unwisely continued to pester her all day. The only thing I got was extra chores and no supper. Since then, I've learned to respect my elders a little more... but only a little.

"Who am I?" I whispered out into the wind. The chirping of birds and the rustling of brush was my only answer. Why can't I remember anything? I suppose it could be because I had been only two when I had come to the orphanage, but you'd think some memory would remain... if only a fragment. Unfortunately, there was nothing. Even my older sisters drew blanks in regards to our history. "I wonder what my mother was like," I mused. "Surely I should be able to remember her hugs and kisses..." I closed my eyes tightly. Nothing. Not even one image. "It's not fair!" I shouted, forgetting myself momentarily.

"Alice!" came a voice from behind me.

I started and nearly fell out the window, but a firm arm grabbed my waist and dragged me back into the stuffy confines of the bedroom.

"Emma!" I exclaimed in a breathless voice as she sat me firmly down into a chair, well away from the window.

"Just what were you doing? Look at your cheeks! They're so red from the damp morning air! You're going to catch your death!" Emma fussed and draped an itchy wool blanket about my shoulders.

"Oh Emma," I laughed, "I wouldn't have fallen... but your yell almost made me," I teased.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Now don't try to shift the blame onto me." She paused and her gaze softened. "Alice, why were you up so early? Did you have that dream again?" She tenderly put her arm around my shoulders. "There's no fooling you, is there?" I attempted a smile, feeling uncomfortable as the images were refreshed in my mind.

Emma tightened her grip on me. "Don't worry Alice. You're safe. I just don't understand why you have such nightmares."

"I can't help but wonder if it means something." I pulled my knees up to my chest. "It just feels so very real and it gets more real every time."

Emma smoothed my hair gently. "Now Alice, what could it possibly mean? Don't let that imagination of yours run so wild. It's bad enough you believe a fairy prince is going to whisk you away in the night." "I don't know..." I mused thoughtfully, as a sudden thought struck me and I chided myself for not having thought it before. "Perhaps it's a memory."

Emma jumped slightly in surprise, her face registering shock and denial. She raised her eyebrows and asked cautiously, "Of what? Our past? If it's half as frightful as that dream of yours, then we should all be thankful not to remember."

Good practical Emma. I got up from the chair and tossed the blanket onto the floor, which my sister diligently picked up with a shake of her head. "I think we should ask Ms Craddock. She has always known something more. I can feel it," I suggested as I reached under the bed for my faded blue dress.

Emma approached me with a sad look in her eyes. "Alice," she began in an exasperated tone, "I honestly don't think she's going to tell you anything, besides sending you to bed without supper. We're abandoned children and it's time for you to accept that fact. You need to put these childish fantasies about our past away. It's not healthy to trick your mind like that you know." Tears seemed to be forming in the corners of her eyes. Wearily Emma dropped onto my bed.

"But Emma," I pleaded, "what about the pendants we wear? The strange language? Does this not strike you as odd? Why would four abandoned children have such fine jewellery? They're solid gold you realize." After a brief pause I pressed, "Emma, you're now 18 years old. Ms Craddock won't keep you here much longer. What then? Will you just go off and leave the rest of us? It's time to find out the truth."

Emma looked down and sighed. After a moment, she threw her hands up into the air. "I suppose you have a point, but I'm definitely not leaving you girls. I guess we should do something." Emma looked thoughtful. "Here's where the wisdom I've gained in my four extra years comes in. Tonight after supper, we'll question Ms Craddock... but, all of us will do it and we'll do it with tact. There's no need to get the old biddy upset. Besides, if we ask after supper, then she can't withhold it from us!"

"Oh, Emma!" I hugged her waist tightly. "Tonight we discover our past."

"Let's just hope we don't regret it," Emma warned, with a troubled look swimming in her blue eyes.

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Catalogue Information