The Awen: Book One of The Sacred Oak Series

By Rebecca Dunning

Winter Haven Manor sits on a coastal estate in Wales, with mystery and danger in its history. It is the home of Ian, the son of the manor’s groundskeeper and a disenchanted dreamer who is soon to discover a destiny beyond his wildest imagination. It is also the home of Reese, Ian’s troubled nemesis who is heir to the estate, and Libby, Reese’s feisty cousin who has returned from America after losing her father.

What the trio discovers is that they are the "three unlikely"--a team of empowered friends meant to save the world, as foretold by a thousand-year-old prophecy. Not only will they have to combine their skills in order to save the otherworld, known as Mag Mell, but they will also have to overcome battles in their own lives as well. Their struggles with the creatures in the otherworld will teach them about who they have been, and more importantly, who they can become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Dunning
• Release date: Nov 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9780982667019

Rebecca Dunning

Rebecca Dunning is an award winning writer who lives in Kansas City with her husband and three children. She not only loves to read and write but also enjoys hiking, climbing mountains 14,000 feet or higher, traveling the world and about anything else out-of-doors. Ms. Dunning has been a regular contributor to 24-7prayer.com, The Gazette, Pikes Peak Parent and FreshInk. Rebecca is also the author of two children's books: The Real-Life Princess and Beetle Hunter as well as her first novel, The Awen: Book One of the Sacred Oak Series.You may also find her ebook, Self-Publishing 101 helpful.

Book preview

Prologue

It all began with the dreams. There is no other way to say it than that. Ian was having very colorful, very real dreams—dreams that would then come true. Only silly things happened at first, like that his mom was going to make him homemade pancakes with clotted cream and fresh strawberries. He then woke up that very morning to the smell of delicious cakes being served. Or when he dreamed he found a ten pound note on the way to school. That same day, there the money was, dangling from the bushes like low-hanging fruit waiting to be picked, just exactly like he had seen it in the night.

The night had become an adventure, and one that he kept to himself in the event that people would think that he had gone crazy. Besides, it had always been good things that happened, so it never occurred to him that the dreams were all that unusual. However, the foretelling dreams began to take place with greater frequency and contain more detail, which in the last couple of weeks had begun to cause him a bit of concern.

It was after he began to dream about his friend Libby that he realized he was experiencing something special. Ian woke with a small sense of dread each time he had a Libby dream, walking around for the next several days awaiting her imminent arrival and the sad news that would come with it. He was unsure of how to react when his mom would break the news his dreams had foretold. That was when he decided he needed to share what was happening with his father.

CHAPTER ONE: Winter Haven Manor

Ian stood at the water’s edge engaged in two of his favorite boyhood pastimes: skipping rocks and spending one-on-one time with his father. He and his dad gazed out at Cardigan Bay from the coastal town of Aberystwyth, Wales—known as Aber to locals—where he had been born. The pair stood in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that said they were enjoying each other’s company so much that talk wasn’t necessary. Simply watching the boats was so entertaining there just wasn’t much need for words.

Besides the occasional pointing out of something interesting and the one-word response or a quip to brag about how many times their rocks skated across the water before plunking below the surface, there was only the toot of boat horns and the distant rumbling of the men’s voices who were working the docks. Talking was for when the two of them walked over to the pier and haggled over the cost of the catch of the day. Talking took place as they made the thirty or so minute stroll back to their home on the estate known as Winter Haven Manor.

On days like this being together and soaking up the late spring sun when his dad wasn’t working helped all of life make sense to Ian. And so, every Saturday things were set straight again. They were just father and son and nothing else mattered in the world. There was no Winter Haven and he was no longer the son of a lifelong servant to it. In fact, he was able to step away from the fact that for generation after generation his family had been servants of Haven.  He was Ian Jones, a twelve-year-old young man, and he had hopes and, well, dreams. A lot of dreams, in fact, and those were what he was thinking about today.

When the sun began to slip down on the horizon and the raging waves began coming in from the Irish Sea, Peter Jones, Ian’s father, disturbed his thoughts with what he said every Saturday, Well, son, I bet your mom is beginning to wonder where we’re at. What do you say we get her some fresh fish for dinner?

Ian had always nodded and said, Yep, she’d like that, and fell into step beside his dad. Today, though, he looked for one last rock and heaved it as hard as he could over the water before joining his dad. He really wanted to tell his father about his vivid dreams but was at a loss for how to begin. Ian decided to start off slowly by asking his dad a few questions before he shared his news.

Dad, tell me what it was like away from Haven, Ian started.

What do you want to know? his dad said as he looked away from the bay towards the hills and distant mountains.

Why did you leave and why did you choose to move back and become the estates’ caretaker?

Silence reigned for a moment, and then with a big intake of breath, Peter Jones began to share: I suppose I left because I’d met and married your mother and wanted to set out to be my own man. I guess it was bad luck mostly that brought me back—not that I’m not thankful for the job. You know your grandfather fell ill about the time you were born and wasn’t able to do all his duties caring for the grounds any longer. With you being born, your mom and I needed money to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. There just wasn’t work anywhere else and, well, I knew the job inside and out from being raised here. At first I began working the estate from our little place across town until my dad passed, and then they offered your mom the nanny job caring for Reese and us the cottage to live in. We just couldn’t turn it down.

Ian’s dad pursed his lips and a stony expression took over his face. Ian sensed that his dad was reliving a distant memory.

It seems like there’s no way to stay away from this place. Everyone says it’s our destiny, his father added quietly.

With that, Ian knew the mood had changed by the now uncomfortable silence between them. He thought that asking questions would open a door for him to share with his father about the last several months, but he decided that now was definitely not the time. They reached the fish market, got what they wanted and then made forced small talk all the way home.

Shoot, Ian thought, I’ll have to find another way.

As they neared their small thatched cottage next to the main house, Ian turned again to his dad.

Thanks for working so hard to take care of us, he said, seeing one of the reasons the Joneses had returned to Winter Haven out of the corner of his eye. Reese, the only child of Patrick and Victoria Williams, was ten yards from the main house practicing archery.

It’s my job, Son.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, Peter answered, rubbing his son’s head and turning towards the cottage.

***

Ian watched Reese take aim with a determined look on his face until he saw that he was being watched.  Reese’s facial expression then turned to one of smug overconfidence as he set an arrow sailing precisely into the center of the target ahead of him.

Show off, Ian muttered to himself as he turned away and watched his father duck into their home to prepare the fish to fry.

It was moments like this that Ian took pride in the fact that he was a full year older and over an inch taller than his occasional nemesis, the self-proclaimed nobility of Winter Haven Manor, Reese Williams. The two boys had been raised like brothers and were best friends until the day that Reese realized two things: first that Ian was naturally better at just about every boyhood skill than him; and second, that Ian was merely part of the hired help.

Reese often talked poorly to Ian and his mom but would settle for playing with Ian when the other children in the area had taken enough of Reese’s spoiled, rude behavior. Ian for the most part didn’t think he had any other choice but to accept Reese’s offer to play and then to make sure things were the way they should be: he would trounce Reese in marbles, netball, cricket or whatever else was the game of the day. Ian had always liked that he was better at every sport or game than Reese. Better that is until archery came along. The Williamses could afford to give Reese lessons, and he’d left Ian in the dust.

***

Ian had often overheard his mom describing him as having a thin but sturdy frame, a brown mop of hair on his head and dark eyes that are both fierce and tender. Ian wished she wouldn’t say embarrassing stuff around him but secretly thought she summed him up rather well.  People often looked into Ian’s eyes and then told his parents he had an old soul. It seemed like a compliment, so he thought maybe it was. It was some of these same people who also tended to say that he was quick and competitive. When Ian heard this he always added but usually only competitive in good ways in his head.

Despite what people said, Ian knew he carried himself like he was the son of a servant and that his poorer-looking clothing made it evident to anyone who did not already know his station in life. He wanted to yell when people of standing looked right past him in town yet stopped to talk to Reese. When guests came for gatherings or dinner parties at the estate and handed him their coats and bags to hang up instead of saying hello he wanted to climb in a hole.

Reese on the other hand, was average in height and weight and was unremarkable in every way. His hair was dishwater blonde, and besides a dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks there was not one thing that stuck out to help people remember him. Ian couldn’t stand it that in spite of Reese’s looking totally average, his royal bearing and fine clothing were evident. Somehow he made up for being so ordinary by carrying himself like a king. That trait alone made Reese unforgettable.

***

Ian needed a moment to collect his thoughts and face what he thought might be an unusually quiet dinner. He continued to meander away from where Reese could see him; out past the stables to the knoll where the two boys used to play King of the Hill when they were younger. At the top he stood and gazed at the panoramic view, taking a moment to remember how thankful he was for the life his parents worked so hard to give him.

The estate really was fantastic. With sixty acres of sprawling grounds, horse stables, ornate fountains, lush gardens, streams, woods and a relatively short walk to the coast there was no end to the imaginative and troublesome things a boy could get himself into. In many ways it was a delicious way for the son of a servant to grow up. When Ian was prowling the grounds without Reese tagging alongside of him to keep him in his place he didn’t even remember his father’s low standing.

As he stood looking over the grounds, Ian knew one thing for sure: he would go out and make his own way in life someday, and though he was relatively gracious towards Reese now, he knew he would never spend the best years of his life trimming hedges and cleaning muck out of the fountains for one Reese Williams. He supposed he knew this from one of his dreams, but he did not know how it would all work out quite yet.

***

Ian stood on the knoll for several moments feeling a little sorry for himself if he were honest and a bit lonely. With summer approaching he knew that Libby would soon be coming, as she always did, and normally the thought of her coming would have brightened his mood, but if his dreamsabout her were indeed true, things would not be as happy as last summer.

Ian had always enjoyed the fact that Libby was half-American and half-Welsh and happened to be Reese’s first cousin on his father’s side. It leveled the playing field a bit that Reese was related to a commoner, as the Williamses often snipped when they thought the children weren’t listening. Libby’s mom, Catherine, a former Williams herself, had married a middle-class American twelve years ago after meeting him while she was traveling to New York. It had been quite the scandal in the family and Ian loved that it gave him Libby—an ally against Lord Reese when he needed one and a girl to pester when he didn’t. It’s the little things in life, he thought to himself.

Libby was eleven years old and half-decent as far as girls go, though Ian would never admit it. In fact, it always brought him and Reese great pleasure to torment her when she spent her summer holidays in her mother’s homeland. It was the only time when Reese treated Ian as almost an equal. Libby, you could say, almost brought them together.

CHAPTER TWO: Mr. McBeetle

Reese and Ian sat at their desks in the school area and eyed Mr. McBeetle. Ian didn’t mind being inside at this particular moment because it was a gloomy and rainy afternoon. It was his favorite type of weather, for it meant wool sweaters and hot cocoa in front of the fire. It also meant a better chance at tomorrow being a clear, warm day to rummage through the woods.

Now Mr. McBeetle wasn’t his tutor’s real name, as one could probably guess, but due to his appearance he was so-called in whispered voices among the household servants. His real name was, of course, Mr. McBee, but Ian had never seen a human being so resemble a bug. Mr. McBeetle was short and squatty with tiny limbs that attached to his rather rotund center. His round, thick head sat on his shoulders in a way that took away any view of a neck and it protruded slightly forward. If that were not enough, his thick coke-bottle glasses magnified his eyes so most people blinked and sort of looked away when speaking to him.

Just like a bug, they all said.

Mr. McBee was shy and unsocial in front of adults. Most people in town thought him to be a rather awkward fellow. However when he was teaching history or science he could make even the dullest, most uninterested student pay attention.

To top off his awkwardness, the small amount of hair remaining on his head tended to stick up and wiggle around whenever he became excited about a particular subject he was teaching. Ian and Reese had to squelch their giggles as his antennae would sway this way and that as he related stories to them of the World War or his many trips to India as a young lad. Nothing got him going like his favorite topic, though: the Welsh Celts. The Welsh Celts were Iron Age warriors from the very area the boys called home.

Reese was taught in the old ways like his ancestors at Winter Haven. Tutors filed in and out of Winter Haven, instructing him in everything from reading, math, and social studies to grammar, etiquette and physical education. In the eyes of the Williamses, though, perhaps the most important class he was taught was Welsh, the native language of their people.

Ian, however, attended public classes during the regular school year but was forced by his parents to continue his studies part-time in the summer at the manor. It’s a wonderful gift offered by Mrs. Williams and you should be grateful, was what he was told each summer as he was hunted down from the woods and practically hog-tied to be brought to the schooling area. But like when he had to be rounded up for bath time when he was younger, he always had a great time once he got there.

Ian was completely fascinated by the rich, colorful stories of the ancient Celts, the ancestors of the United Kingdom and Ireland who were not only brave warriors