The Telling Mirror: Book 1 in the Telling Mirror Series

By M G Nelson

When Sig finds herself under a collapsed barn on her farm she falls through a portal which brings her into a different dimension, a strange world filled with gruesome creatures, dangerous centaurs and gracious and magical fairies and butterflies. She finds herself not alone when she bumps into Reggie, who she at first doesn't recognize to be

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barn Cat Press
• Release date: Feb 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997819120

M G Nelson

M.G. Nelson whiles the time away crafting novels on a farm tucked away in a quiet corner of the Upper Midwest. Cows, chickens, cats, and a couple of good hounds keep things lively for the author. Good books, travel, and solid friends keep things real.

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The Telling Mirror

M. G. Nelson

DEDICATION

To the memory of my most avid reader and strongest supporter, my mom, Suzanne D. Nelson

Text copyright © 2017 M. G. Nelson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or to living persons alive or dead. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the author, illustrator, or publisher except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Barn Cat Press, IDS Center, 80 S. 8th St., Ste. 900, Minneapolis, MN 55402.

www.barncatpress.com

Summary: After entering an alternative world through a portal, Sig and her cat, Reggie, find themselves on a perilous journey to find Sig’s father and to reclaim Reggie’s throne.

ISBN: 978-0-9978191-1-3

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to my critical readers and editors: Aries, Kandi, Dan, Kathy, Alma, Nick, Anna, Jennifer and Nancy. A special thanks for the early supporters of the book: Terry, Scott, Denise and Kris. Also thank you Joan.

Table of Contents

1 THE START

2 ON TOP OF THE WORLD

3 THROUGH THE FOREST

4 AN ENGAGEMENT

5 NUTS TO YOU

6 SATE VILLAGE

7 FRIENDLY FOE

8 ESCAPE

9 SAFE HARBOR

10 A BREATH OF FRESH AIR

11 BEACH NIGHT

12 AT SEA

13 ATTACK

14 PRISONERS

15 MT. TSOR

16 NOT AS THEY SEEM

17 DICEY GAME

18 FIGHTING SPIRIT

19 A SNOWY RIDE

20 SCANDIA

21 BEFORE THE COUNCIL

22 ONWARDS

23 SWARMED

24 THE MARCH

25 DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT

26 CONFRONTATION

27 THE END PART

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

1 THE START

Sun’s up! Hop to it.

Sig jerked awake and groaned. She flung her arm across her eyes as the window shade snapped open and flooded the room with morning sunlight.

Wake up! Chores first, then breakfast! her uncle barked at her before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Muttering to herself, she rolled to the edge of the bed, sat up and struggled to her feet. Experience told her when Dan said get up he meant get going or he’d come back and drag her out of bed by her ear.

Sig stumbled over to her dresser and rummaged through the jumble of clothing she kept on top. She picked out a rumpled pink tank top and black baggy jeans, looking away from the mirror that hung over the dresser. Her chubby, round face embarrassed her and the black streaks she put in her hair did nothing to hide the fact that she had—as Dan had said—dull blonde hair.

Fat, fat, fat, she hissed as she pinched the flesh on her belly. No wonder Dad left. I’m just as big a blob as Mom. She put her black hoodie on as she jammed her feet into her skate shoes. Grabbing her phone and earbuds, she pushed the buds into her ears.

Time’s wasting! Dan yelled. You got three minutes to get down here.

Yeah, I’m coming, she muttered.

Instead of heading for the door, she turned and opened the window and slipped out onto the roof over the porch. She reached in her hoodie’s pocket and smiled at the feel of the smooth lighter and a pack of cigarettes…the pack Dan hadn’t known about when he made her return the others to B.O. Wayne at the gas station.

After finding a good song, she sat with her back to the window and lit up, watching the sun rise from behind the barn. As much as she had hated being banished to the isolated ranch in South Dakota after her mom went to the nuthouse, the view beat the one out of the grimy windows of their apartment in North Minneapolis.

Her gaze drifted toward the tall cement silo next to the old barn. The early morning light hitting the two tallest structures for miles around made them look like a low mountain rising from the prairie. She imagined Dan as the cruel master of this mountain, using her as a slave labor to fill his barn and silo with cash and coins.

Sig sighed and finished her half-smoke, stubbed the ash out and carefully replaced the rest of the cigarette in the pack. Crab-walking on her hands and feet to the edge of the roof, she got on her belly and shimmied onto the trellis. She climbed partway down, then dropped to her feet and sprinted past the kitchen window.

The chickens pecking in the gravel driveway scattered as she charged through the flock. She hated the pesky things, hated that she had chicken chores and hated picking their eggs, especially if the hens were sitting on them. Then she was sure to get a few hard pecks on the back of her hand or a face full of feathers and dust as the hens flew off their nests.

She reached the barn and yanked the door open. Careful to latch it after her, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloomy space. Despite being a little creepy with all the dusty cobwebs, the place gave her some privacy. Dan had his workshop in the machine shed and rarely came down to the old dairy barn.

Sig plopped down on a straw bale. Tight rectangular bundles of wheat straw filled the back half of the barn to the rafters. Once, when ultra-bored, she had made a tunnel through the bales. It made a good spot to stash her cash. A few more weeks and she’d have enough money to get out of South Dakota and go to San Diego to find her dad.

She picked a loose bit of black polish from her thumbnail then pulled a yellow stalk from the bale. She studied its frayed ends and took the lighter from her pocket. The flint made a rasping noise before sparking the butane to flame.

She touched the straw to the flame and held onto the burning stem until the fire touched her fingertips. Throwing it to the ground she stomped on it then pulled out another stalk. She experimented with different straw lengths, timing how long it took for each one to burn to her fingertips without burning flesh. As she tossed a burnt stem to the ground, something hard hit her in the back, knocking her off balance. She fell off the bale and dropped the lighter.

Sig sat up. A cat batted a paw at the bale and growled. A charred area the size of her palm marred the yellow straw. She glared at the cat, stood and wiped the dust off her rear. Kicking through the dust and chaff, she found the lighter and walked back to the bale.

She shooed the cat away and stamped on the burned area with her foot. Touching the scorch mark she found the area warm, but there was no smoke. For good measure she spat on it until she was dry.

What are you looking at, you stupid thing? she said to the short-haired cat named Reggie. He had climbed into the rafters and peered at her with vivid green eyes, his tail swishing back and forth.

I didn’t do it on purpose, she said. Leave me alone. She turned and left the barn, unnerved by the cat that seemed to follow her everywhere on the farm. If he wasn’t sitting on the fence that surrounded the yard, he was slinking along the porch railing. One time she caught him on the roof by her window staring, as usual, with unblinking eyes.

Sig squinted up at the sky. The sun was barely above the tree tops east of the farmstead. The hours she had to kill on this isolated place were endless. The chores they forced her to do were ludicrous. All they wanted was an unpaid kid they could order around and they got one.

Taking a left, Sig turned and went into the chicken coop. The hens had meandered onto the grassy yard so she was able to take the egg bucket off its peg on the wall and pick eggs without getting attacked. Fifteen stupid eggs from fifteen stupid cluckers was the way she saw it.

She ducked behind the chicken house with the bucket of eggs. The first egg hit the side of the shed with a solid, satisfying splat. She stepped back a few paces and heaved the second with an equally accurate aim. After the sixth egg, she stopped. Nine eggs left. Enough to keep her aunt Char happy. Now it was time to head in for breakfast and her reimbursement.

Char knelt in the vegetable patch near the kitchen door with her back to Sig. Sig slipped by the garden and quietly let herself in the back door. Dan was out on the grounds somewhere. Placing the egg bucket on the kitchen floor, she went to the window over the sink and peered out. Her aunt was still puttering in the garden pulling weeds.

Sig went to the fridge, opened the freezer compartment and took out the coffee can that held Char’s egg and vegetable earnings. Folded bills covered the coins rattling in the bottom. Sig liberated a few bills and a handful of coins as she had been doing every week for the past two months she had lived with her aunt and uncle.

Dan had taken her to the bank when she first arrived and opened a savings account for her to deposit the money he paid her for doing extra chores around the farm. With Char as co-signer, Sig couldn’t make a withdrawal without them knowing about it. She took the money from the can to compensate for the unpaid work they made her do like vacuuming, washing her clothes or cleaning her room.

She shoved the money in her pocket, returned the can to its spot underneath the frozen tator tots and then took the stairs to her room two at a time. Sig flopped onto her bed, plugged in her earbuds and closed her eyes. She had dozed off when a door slammed hard enough to shake the bedroom walls. Sig flinched and sat up in bed. Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs and her bedroom door flew open.

What are you doing? she demanded.

Dan stood in the doorway, chest heaving and an angry scowl marring his round, red face. His dark eyes flashed as he moved in on her and bent his six foot six frame over her. She swallowed, throat dry as a cotton ball, as he grabbed her arm. He yanked her off the bed and shook her so hard the ear buds fell out.

How dare you! he boomed. Do you pull these stunts on purpose or are you a complete idiot? Sig tried to pull away, but his grip on her arm tightened.

Dan? called Char. What’s going on?

Dan pulled Sig from the room, down the stairs and flung her into a chair at the kitchen table.

This brat almost burned my barn down, he said. Sig’s face flushed. Bending her knees to her chest, she hugged her shins with her arms.

I was in my shop when I noticed smoke pouring out of the barn door. I ran over there and found a bale smoldering. It was probably only seconds away from catching the whole barn on fire! I pulled it out and threw it behind the chicken coop and put out the fire with water from the hydrant. And then guess what I see! This kid has been throwing eggs against the backside of the shed. The paint’s totally ruined. And God only knows how many eggs we’ve been cheated of.

Signe Amelia Erickson, said Char. A pained look crossed her suntanned face as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. How could you do this? I know you’re angry because your mom had to go to treatment and you’re stuck with us, but honey, you’ve got to work through these emotions in a positive way.

Char pulled a chair next to Sig’s and sat down. She placed a hand on Sig’s shoulder but Sig shrugged it off.

Don’t coddle her, said Dan, still fuming. I’ve had it. First she steals cigarettes from my friend’s store, now she’s setting fire to my barn. What next? Animal sacrifices? Or maybe following in the footsteps of her mom—pregnant at seventeen and a washed-up junkie at thirty?

Sig hugged her knees tighter as she felt her ears burn red.

Dan, said Char. Don’t talk about your sister-in-law like that. She stroked Sig’s arm. Sig, if you want I’ll take you to talk to Dr. Stielow again. You liked her didn’t you? She’s a good psychologist.

Sig rolled her eyes. A couple of blah-blah-blah women were two too many for her taste. All that talk had led to a big fat nothing changing for her.

Dan snorted. She’s beyond talking. I’m calling that group home in Aberdeen the lawyer recommended. We just can’t handle her. Maybe they’ll take her tonight.

I don’t want to be here either! Sig screamed as she sprang off the chair. I hate you and your stupid farm and, and, and… Her throat tightened and hot tears spilled from her eyes. She spun and barreled out the door. Tears blurred her vision as she raced to the barn. The door stood open, airing out the acrid smoke lingering in the building.

Sig tossed aside the two bales covering her secret tunnel’s opening and crawled through the passage. It ended in a small cave she had excavated in the deep stack of bales. She kneeled and reached into a niche formed by three bales and pulled out a Ziploc bag and flashlight.

She turned on the light. With the seventeen dollars she had collected this morning, the bag contained almost two hundred dollars. Her savings account held over four hundred. More than enough for a bus ticket to San Diego, which was the last address she had for her dad. Aunt Charlotte’s signature had taken awhile to master, but Sig had a withdrawal slip ready with the inscription.

Bits of loose straw and dust fell on her as she placed today’s loot in the bag.

Stupid cat, get out of here, she yelled. She pointed the light up and peered into the dark crevices formed by the bales overhead.

More straw fell and she swatted the air to clear the suspended chaff. An overhead bale fell next to her, and she scuttled towards the tunnel. Bales began to fall, blocking her path, and she retreated, scrambling backwards to avoid the crush of straw collapsing the tunnel and the cave.

She hit the back of the barn with her head, a loose board cracking against her skull. Sig grabbed the end of the board with her hand, pulling until it snapped in two. The next board broke as easily, and she wriggled through the resulting hole. Bales fell on her legs, but she freed them with a tug and tumbled to the ground headfirst.

She blocked her fall with her arms and rolled onto her back still clutching the flashlight and bag of money.

What the? she said. Instead of falling onto the grass on the sunny side of the barn, she had landed in a chilly darkness. The flashlight beam shot through the falling straw and dust as she shone it this way and that, illuminating walls of damp rock surrounding her.

She reached out to touch the wall. It was freezing cold and covered with a layer of ice. She wiped her hands on her jeans and inspected the rest of the cavern. The ceiling loomed just a hand’s width above her head, an icy sheen reflecting the light. Sig pulled her hood up and drew the strings tight.

The cave was shaped much like a keyhole, with a narrow neck leading away from the small enclosure. Taking short, hesitant steps, she walked through the fissure. A biting wind blew and a murky light appeared through an aperture ahead. She squirmed through the opening and gasped. Only quick reflexes saved her from a fatal step.

2 ON TOP OF THE WORLD

The cave opened up onto a narrow ledge of rock overlooking a mountain range, the highest peak hundreds of feet below the outcropping Sig stood on. She took a dizzying step backward and grabbed for the rock wall.

Instead, her hand landed on something, someone, and she whirled around to come face-to-face with a boy standing in the cave entrance.

Who are you? she cried, raising her flashlight like a club.

Do you not recognize me? he asked, stepping out into the foggy grey light swirling up from below them.

Sig shook her head and held the flashlight in front of her as a warning. Stay back, she said.

Take a good look, Sig. He smiled, exposing small, needle-sharp teeth. Sig examined the youth. His silky gray hair, large ears and round, wide-set emerald eyes struck her as oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Then he arched a shoulder and rubbed against the cave’s edge. She reached out and touched his arm, then gasped when he leaned into her touch and rubbed against her hand.

Reggie? No way. He removed the black cap he wore, licked his hand and smoothed his hair.

Yes, I am he.

You’re a cat, though, Sig said, disbelieving what she was seeing.

He tugged at his clothing as if it was uncomfortable although the cream-colored long-sleeved shirt, black leggings and knee-high black leather boots perfectly fit his wiry body.

In the other place I am, or was, a cat. Now that I have come to this place it is obvious I am a human, is it not?

Yeah, well, I don’t get it, Sig said, looking around. Where are we? And, how could you be a human?

He shrugged. It is this place. I’m human here whereas in your world I had the form of a cat.

That’s like the dumbest answer ever. Let’s try this again. First, where are we?

Reggie squinted and looked around. From the looks of it we are on a mountaintop.

I don’t mean that! Sig screamed. How’d I get here? How’d you get here? One moment, I’m being smothered by hay bales in the barn, then bam, I’m in some creepy cave, standing on the edge of a freezing cold cliff, talking to someone who’s supposed to be a cat!

Her neck and cheeks flushed with the heat of her anger. Making a fist, she pounded the razor sharp rock face of the mountain. The sting of a hundred little cuts made her sob, but she couldn’t make herself stop hammering on the rock.

Stop it. Reggie grabbed her hands to stop her from hurting herself more. He gently held her elbow and guided her into a sitting position.

I do not exactly know where we are—but I think, I hope—it is the world I lived in before I had to flee to your world. I wish I could remember more about how I came to your world and how I came to be a cat, but I just can’t remember.

I don’t understand this. I hate this. I don’t want to be here. Sig drew her knees to her chest. I want to go back and go to San Diego to find my dad. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

I don’t like it either. I have a bloody raging headache from the change and it’s muddling my thinking. There is no going back through to the barn. I checked. The opening we came through is no longer there.

Sig sniffed and wiped her nose on her arm then struggled to her feet. I’m going to check it out myself.

She turned on the flashlight and made her way through the cave entrance. It was pitch black. She struggled to keep her balance as she picked her way down to the cave bottom. The canvas of her skate shoe caught a sharp edge, tearing as it tipped her off balance.

Sig reached out instinctively to steady herself and was rewarded with sharp gashes on her palm. As she jerked her hand back she stumbled to the bottom landing hard on the gravel floor. The flashlight clattered to the ground.