Oak and Mirrors

Oak and Mirrors

A Morgan's Faire Tale

by

Ceri Evans

©2013 Ceri Evans, all rights reserved.

First Smashwords Edition July 2013

This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, except for brief excerpts for review purposes, without written permission from the author. If you'd like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover illustration ©2013 Ceri Evans, all rights reserved.

https://www.facebook.com/ceridwyn.evans

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright Information

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

Sneak Peek at All's Faire, coming in 2014

About the Author

Notes and Acknowledgements

A Note on Welsh Names

Chapter 1

Jo! Hey-ho, Jo!" I jumped as I heard my name called. I'd started thinking about Faire, and the next thing I knew I realized I'd been staring into space, lost to the world—something that had been happening more and more since Gram died last year. I pulled myself together and went to the open window. Young Tom was sitting on the gate post in front, and he waved and jumped down when he saw me.

Ready to get to work? He was dressed in his usual ragged jeans and nothing else, his skin so freckled it almost looked like a tan from the summer sun.

Be right out! I called before putting on my work boots and grabbing my backpack and hat. I went to the stairs and called up to Mom, I'm off to help at the Faire site! I heard her muffled acknowledgment and went out to join Tom.

It was the week before Faire, and I was always a willing part of the crew. The major work had already been done: clearing the odd fallen tree or branch, graveling the parking lot and entry road, making sure all the plants on site would be safe with little ones around, and clearing the children's meadow of rocks or other dangers to kids prone to unexpected falls and frequent somersaults.

This was the last minute work: ensuring the paths were smooth and clear, snipping back any new growth that could scratch or poke unwary walkers, double-checking that the sites for each vendor were clean and ready for set up, and giving a last check to all the stages and permanent buildings. It's hard work every year, getting ready for Faire, but I love it.

I love the Faire, too. It's held every August on my cousins' farm: Morgan's Harvest Faire. Their grandfather started it long ago, and it's been going on ever since. It's weird, wacky, and a lot of fun. People dress up in crazy costumes and there's no real theme beyond anything goes so long as it's fun and fantastical.

Penny for them, Tom said, and I realized I'd gotten lost in my thoughts again.

Just thinking about the Faire. It's been so long since I dressed up, but this year I suddenly really want to.

What brought this on? You've let it go pretty late to make a costume. Do you know what you'll make? Tom looked pleased as he threw the questions at me.

Mmmm. I think I dreamed what I want to wear. I can picture it in my head, but I'm not sure how to describe it yet. I'll tell you as soon as I can, right?

You'd better! I'm off to check the meadow. Kerry and Aidan are on the high path and wanted you. Have fun! he called as he ran off.

Tom's a funny looking kid; he's got big green eyes, curly red hair, and if you look up impish in the dictionary, I think his face might be pictured there. He's always at the thick of things at Faire, and I think he does odd jobs for the Morgans all year. Just seeing Tom can make me feel better when I'm having a bad day; he barely comes to my shoulder, but he's bigger than life in many ways. He knows everyone at Faire and has a hand in everything, and I've never heard anyone say a word against him or contradict him.

I headed up the hill towards the Old One and found Kerry and Aidan trimming shrubs at the edges of the path. Kerry can do a perfect imitation of a coyote, and she called out as soon as she saw me. I answered her in kind and heard others join in. As we all let the yips fade away, I asked, Am I late? Sorry!

Nah, we came up early, don't worry about it. She stretched and then grabbed a pair of clippers for me. With your help I think we'll be done today.

I zoned out again while we were working, but didn't even realize it until Aidan shook my shoulder. His eyes looked worried as I met them. I've called you half a dozen times, Jo; you kept snipping, but you didn't seem to hear me at all.

I felt myself flush as I nodded. It's been getting worse. Some days I seem to lose half the day, and almost every morning I wake up feeling like the world isn't quite real, but I can't remember my dreams any more.

We were by the Old One, and Aidan sat in the dirt near him and tugged me down. Who've you talked to about it?

You mean like a therapist? No-one! I don't want anyone to say I'm crazy!

Kerry sat down next to me and stroked my arm. No, love, he means family. Your mother, Rhian, Alex, Tom?

I shook my head, looking down. I was worried that something was wrong with me, but when I thought about telling anyone how bad it had gotten, I was terrified, but I didn't know why when they were all people I'd trust with my life.

Kerry hugged me, and I relaxed a little. Kerry's even taller than me, with darker skin and pale eyes, and she gives amazing hugs. Leave it for now, then, but remember this, Jo, she twisted me to look in my eyes. We're all your family, and none of us will ever think you crazy. Got it?

Got it, I said, trying not to sniffle. She let me go and I wiped my eyes dry on my sleeve. I heard Tom calling and looked up just as he appeared around a curve in the path. He gave me a look, but didn't ask me if anything was wrong.

Done here? he asked instead, and to my surprise Kerry and Aidan told him we were. I turned around and looked, and the paths were cleared as far down the hill as I could see. I didn't remember any of it and swallowed against the sudden cold feeling in my stomach. They could use your help setting up the tables for lunch, he said, nodding at Aidan and Kerry, and after Kerry gave me another squeeze, she and Aidan strode down the path and out of sight.

Tom sat down cross-legged in front of me. Again, love? I nodded, watching my hands in my lap as I twisted them together. I'm going to ask you some odd questions, but it doesn't mean I think you're crazy, Jo, no matter how they sound. Right?

Okay, I said, surprised by how small my voice sounded.

Do I like just like normal to you? Well, that wasn't a question I expected. I looked up at Tom and he looked pretty normal: freckled/bronzed skin, curly red hair hanging in his eyes, ragged jeans. But when I looked at him my head started to throb, and I saw afterimages, like when you look at something too bright. I told him that and he smiled. That's good, that is. I started to say something and he interrupted me, No, not your headache, but I do mean it true; it's a good sign. Have the dreams been about the same?

No, I can hardly remember anything at all when I wake up, no matter how hard I try; just brief images that fade faster the harder I try to hold onto them. And every time I do wake up, for a minute I'm sure that the waking world is the dream world because everything seems strange and unreal.

Tom smiled again and I jumped. For just a moment his face looked completely different, like he was an old man. He tilted his head to the side and watched me, and his face settled back into the normal face of a 10 year old boy. I blinked a few times, but now it was just Tom, watching me.

Do something for me, Jo, something I think your Gram would have told you to do. Go home and have a nap, and try as you fall asleep to tell yourself to remember your dreams.

I can try, but so far it hasn't worked.

Tom held out his fist to me, then turned his hand over and opened it. He was holding a delicate gold chain with a tiny glass vial suspended on it. There was liquid inside the flask and a tiny dark cork in the top. Wear this. Maybe it'll help.

I took the necklace and put it on, and the spot on my chest where the tiny vial touched felt warm. None of this made any sense, and I really didn't feel tired nor want to go, but my feet had other ideas; they carried me straight home at a trot and right into my room. I pulled off my dusty clothes and boots, and it seemed like as as soon as I settled into bed, I was falling into the dream world.

Chapter 2

The small bell by my bed woke me. I groaned and tugged on the cord next to it, ringing the kitchen bell to let Cook know I was awake and would be right down. It was almost dawn and time to start the bread.

I sat up, stretched, and shivered. My room is plain, gray stone, and always very cold. I reached for my dress and apron—I'd left them in reach on the wooden chair by my bed—and slipped them on over my chemise and leggings. I'd left thick wooly socks and my boots in reach, too, and put them on before putting my feet on the cold stone floor.

My dream was fading away, but I could remember bright colors, warmth, and people who loved me. And a funny little boy with red hair who grinned at me. When I was younger, I pretended that was the real world and this was the dream world.

But this is the real world. I live and work in the Queen's palace, cleaning and cooking. I don't remember my life before coming to the castle. My first memory here is of the girl I shared a room with at first, Sanna. She was kind and gentle with me, but she vanished not long after I arrived, sent out for the Hunt.

I don't know what kind of creatures the Hunters are. Even inside the castle they wear their heavy helmets closed over their faces. They're taller and broader than the biggest man I've seen, and their horses are huge black beasts whose eyes glow red. The Hunters serve the Queen and nothing, no one, can escape them. Sometimes people do survive being hunted and are brought back, bloody and terrified, but alive. Other time the Hunters may bring back bloody clothes to dump in the midden or nothing at all. But while the Riders terrify me, I've never been sent out to run for my life or for the enjoyment of the Hunters.

Sanna wasn't so lucky. One day the Queen sent her out to run. The Hunters brought her back, bloody and bruised, unable to speak because she'd lost her voice screaming. She never spoke again, and a few weeks later she was sent out again and didn't return. Cook told me afterwards that Sanna hadn't even run out the gates the second time; she stood and smiled at the Hunters as they approached and never made a sound as they tore her apart and devoured her. Cook loves to watch the Hunt leave; I was horrified