Jack stirred, blinking against the throbbing pain behind his eyes and rubbed the back of his head, remembering the strangest dream.
A beautiful woman knocked him over the head and carried him to a bar. Some sort of exchange was made and he was dragged into a carriage. What followed was a wildly uncomfortable ride where his captors rambled on in Portuguese about a mirror. The rest of the details were hazy, but he was pretty sure someone forced a cloth over his mouth as he wrestled to break free, and then everything grew dark again.
He sat up and frowned at the uncomfortable bench he had been sleeping on. It was certainly a far cry from the orthopedic mattress he had in his own room.
The logical side of his brain concocted a story that he had consumed too much alcohol at the wake––the devastation of loss all-consuming––and collapsed in one of the dining rooms at the manor.
Jack was not one to drink. But it would definitely explain the crazy dreams and his headache.
He shuffled off the bench, and his shoes landed on a hardwood floor. He wrinkled his nose at the moldy aroma of his surroundings and squinted into the darkness. He cleared his throat and the sound echoed. His heart sank.
Perhaps it was not a dream after all.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a faint outline of his surroundings came into view. He was still in the carriage. Flecks of snow flurried through a pair of iron bars and landed at his feet. Jack coughed against the thickness in the air and tried to make sense of his predicament.
If he was truly awake, then, Jack fell through the mirror in his grandfather’s office and landed… somewhere very cold. But where, exactly?
He staggered over to the bars and grasped the cold iron with shaking hands. The roughness of the surface grazed his palms, but Jack welcomed the sensation. It reminded him that he was alive. At least for now. He peered through the bars to catch a glimpse of a dark forest.
Did his grandfather know about the magical mirror? Had he ever used it as a portal to another world? He cast his mind back and remembered it was not unusual for his grandfather to barricade himself in his study for days––weeks even.
Why didn’t he tell Jack about it? And now that the mirror was broken––he did see billions of glass fragments scatter, after all––how would he return home?
Then he remembered the beautiful woman’s face. Her porcelain skin, almond-shaped eyes, and flowing hair. But in a flash, her ice-blue eyes darkened and her expression soured.
“Trust no one.”
It had been almost a growl, a stark contrast to her warm and musical voice. It had caught Jack by surprise. Before he had known what was happening, he was being sold. All for what? He hadn’t seen. He had thought it best to keep his eyes shut and pretend to be unconscious. Who was this woman and what did she want so badly that had driven her to kidnap him?
He inwardly reprimanded himself for falling so easily for the girl’s charm. Had he not known better than to blindly follow a woman to his doom after venturing into the beyond? He slammed a fist against the bars and then winced as the deafening twang rang in his ears at full volume.
The squeal of a rusty hinge drew his attention, and the steady thud of boots hitting the cobbled path had him on edge.
“Where does the master want us to take him?”
“For now, to the ship.”
He stepped back as the stench of stale sweat and liquor wafted his way. What did these men want with him? And who was their master?
Jack swallowed as he listened to the jingle of keys, then a click. The carriage door flung open, revealing a man wearing black leather boots, a pair of breeches and a gray waistcoat over a cotton shirt. He had a short beard and wore a hat to complete the look. Though Jack had never seen the man in his life, he knew what he was. A pirate.
“Tie him up,” the pirate said gruffly. A redhead appeared and shuffled forward, grabbing Jack’s arms. Too bewildered and frozen to move, Jack didn’t fight back. “Keep your mouth shut.” The pirate leaned into the carriage and growled into his ear. Were these people here to save him? His situation was so far beyond logic and reason, he figured at this point, anything was possible. He gave a curt nod and the pirate sneered as the redhead tied his hands.
A scratchy sack was forced over his head, and then the carriage door slammed. Moments later, the carriage moved forward, and all Jack could hear was the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves.
The chill of the air had a bite to it. Yet a distant howl grew into a ferocious roar as an icy cold gust of wind hit the carriage. Despite the jostling and frosty weather, Jack was calm. He had always been fond of the cold.
He heard the cry from a far-off bird and set his jaw. If only he could have transformed into a bird and flown away to freedom.
The carriage came to an abrupt stop and the whinny of the horses had Jack’s heart racing. He caught the sound of a whistle in the air, followed by a grunt and a heavy thud against the door, causing the carriage to jolt sideways.
“What in the blazes…?” a man outside muttered. Then the man cried out and the carriage lurched to the side as something heavy collided with it.
Jack’s senses were on high alert. His ears picked up the crunching gravel as quickening steps circled the carriage. Then a scuffle of movement at his side. With trembling hands, he dragged the sack from his face and took a breath. He heard a symphony of sounds: the clash of steel blades, the thump of flesh making contact with the path, and a distant whistle.
He staggered to the iron bars as an arrow landed with a thud just inches away from his nose. He glimpsed a hooded figure deep in battle with the dark-haired pirate. They moved with such grace and agility, it was almost like a dance. But it ended when the hooded figure pinned the pirate to the tree and hit him on the head with a piece of wood from the broken carriage.
A strange and eerie silence followed as the figure turned around.
Jack stumbled out of the carriage with his hands still tied and awkwardly staggered to find his balance.
“Stop moving.”
Jack craned his neck at the familiar voice. The cold steel of a blade slid between his hands, and in a swift action, his bonds fell to the ground. Jack jumped to his feet and stumbled away from the hooded figure.
“It’s you!”
The figure threw their hood back to reveal the brunette from the hilltop. Her eyes shifted left and right, then narrowed at him.
“We have to move,” she said, putting away her knife then shrugging a bow onto her shoulder as she looked at the immobile bodies on the ground. “It’s not safe. There could be more of them.” She grunted as she tugged at the arrow embedded in the flank of one of the bodies and wiped it on her cloak. Jack folded his arms.
“You sold me to them.”
The young woman glared at him. “And now I’m saving you.” She whistled, and a gray gelding galloped out from the tree line. “Besides, I have a horse. And you won’t get far on foot.”
Jack was just about to argue that he could take one of the horses from the carriage when he noticed they had bolted. He sighed heavily as he considered his options. It was bitterly cold, he had no idea where he was, nor where to go, and it seemed like an age since his last meal.
The woman was right. He wouldn’t even last a day.
“Will you at least tell me who these people are? What do they want with me?” Jack asked as he rubbed his wrists and rolled his shoulders. The young woman mounted the horse and held out her hand for him.
“I’ll tell you everything I know, but we have to go now.” She gave him a look so pleading, he almost didn’t recognize the fighter he'd just seen beating up his captors. Jack took her hand and climbed on. The horse neighed, and without another word the woman kicked and they charged into the forest.
* * *
Jack was inquisitive at the best of times, but now the inner workings of his mind were doing overtime. So many questions burned within that if he did not have answers soon, he might burst into flames.
Growing up in his grandfather’s shadow, no one had had any time for Jack. He had lived a somewhat solitary life. When he was a small child, the only company he had day to day was a small fly that lived in his room. He escaped into new worlds, reading all of the books in the library—Jack’s favorite place in the manor. He was particularly fond of the classic fairy tales. He knew even the most obscure ones by heart. As William Wordsworth had said:
Dreams, books, are each a world.
And Jack had many dreams and read many books. So, he argued that he had traveled farther than most. Yet if he took his recent experiences and applied them to the books he had read, his conclusion was that he had somehow stumbled into the stories. Had there not been dwarves at the pub? But the thought was implausible. Perhaps he was still buried deep in a drunken sleep. The latter made more sense.
The horse sped up and darted into the woodland. Jack sucked in air between his teeth as they raced through the overgrown trees, narrowly missing claw-like branches from all sides. The woods had a mystical and unearthly atmosphere under the moonlight.
Yet the woman remained quiet and confident, murmuring the horse instructions as if the horse was not an animal, but a comrade.
Jack held her narrow waist. “Are you talking to the horse?”
“It’s a little trick my sister taught me.”
Jack silently thanked his grandfather for insisting on years of horse riding lessons. Otherwise, this bumpy ride might have been much more of a challenge.
The horse galloped faster, and the wind howled in Jack’s ears. His questioning brain froze as the sculpture-like trees blurred in his peripheral vision and the wind ruffled his hair. Every atom in Jack’s body buzzed as if they had become the winter storm.
He did not know where they were headed, nor if they were going to ride all night. But Jack was determined to get answers. And somehow he knew that this mystery woman was the key to finding them.
After all, she was the reason he fell through the mirror.