Allegra Anderson Has More Adventures...

I believe that I left you guys off on my I-wrote-this-when-I-was-lots-younger story Allegra Anderson in a pretty exciting place. :) So, here's more!!

Chapter VII

Newlands Valley

I practically ran down the stairs and into the courtyard, but quickly stopped my stampede whenever somebody was around. I walked VERY quickly into the stables, opening the book.

   “Surely there must be something about where Sean is…” I murmured to myself. “Come on, come on!”

  I flipped through the pages, trying to find something about his location. And then I found it in chapter 7. It read:

Sean had, after saving the lives of the beautiful girl Rowena and the feisty Princess Aspen, decided he needed to visit his old mentor, Dr. Phillip Factator. He headed along the bright Newlands Valley and followed the black, mucky currents of the river Thames. Soon, the dark caves of Speedwell Caverns appeared, and Sean could see the Peak Cavern, belonging to Dr. Factator. He urged his horse on, riding up the steep cliffs, making sure to stay out of the way of the serpents.

   Huh. Well, I knew where I was going—to the Peak Cavern.

       I stuffed the book under my arm, and hurried back into the castle. I went up to “Rowena’s” room, and checked all of the dresses—nope, none of them would do. I checked under the bed, thinking maybe she kept a spare thing of clothes there. And to my surprise, I came across one of those girl archery outfits—you know, pants, leather boots, vest, shirt—complete with a little belt. I quickly pulled it out—it was just my size! I quickly changed, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Grabbing a warm, “normal” cloak from the wardrobe, (and grabbing a bag, which I stuffed the book, food, water, rope, a dagger, firestone, and a compass) I peeked out of the door, making sure that nobody was there. I quickly hurried out, making my way to a side stairway I had seen maids use before. Hurrying down it, I snuck through the kitchens and out back.

    I then snuck into the stables, glancing at all of the horses—and then I saw the horse I would need. He was a dark bay (good for hiding in dark places, not like a white horse), with black mane and tail. He had deep, trusting brown eyes, which he stared right at me with. I glanced at the nameplate on the stall. It read Trusty. I smiled—so true. I quietly tiptoed over, and was glad to see it was already saddled and bridled, though I couldn’t see any sweat, betraying Trusty had been ridden lately.

  I swung on his back, opening the paddock door. I then kicked him, and to my surprise he shot off at a canter. I was surprised at how smooth the gait was compared to the gallop.

   Okay, so first it said he went through the Newlands Valley. Where on earth was that? I should have brought a map! 

  Good going, Allegra.

We hurried down the streets of the town, and out into the countryside. I knew that all of the places mentioned were actually in England, but I hadn’t ever visited them.

A while later, another smaller village came into view, and I stopped Trusty for a moment, and hopped off.

  “Excuse me,” I asked a woman. “Do you know where the Newlands Valley is? I need to get there.”

   The lady nodded and pointed. “That way.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” Then I mounted Trusty again and we were off. We cantered a very long time, and I was starting to wish that Trusty would slow, but he didn’t. I was definitely getting riding lessons when I got back to the real England.

Soon, a bright and beautiful valley came into view. Little cottages dotted here and there along the slopes gave it secludedness.

  We raced down the hill, Trusty enjoying every bit of it—me, not so much.  As we rode through the valley, I wondered where to go next—not to mention it was getting dark out and I didn’t know where to stay…but could I just go up to one of those cottages doors and knock on it, asking for shelter? I doubted it.

   I stopped Trusty right by an abandoned hut. It was more of a lean-to, but I knew that it would work for the night. After tethering Trusty, and eating some food and a sip of water, I took the blanket off Trusty’s back (which just happened to have been on him) and lay facing the opening.

My eyes started to close, and weariness overtook me.

I woke with a start, and saw sunlight streaming through the opening. It was late! I scrambled off the ground, grabbed my bag and blanket, and jumped onto Trusty, who was peacefully nibbling the lush green grass of Newlands Valley.   I kicked Trusty, and immediately he started off at a brisk canter.

Chapter VIII

The River Thames

Trusty was still hurrying when I heard the pounding hooves of another horse—and I glanced back. A rider was about several hundred feet behind me. I kicked Trusty faster, and he broke into a gallop.

  “Allegra!”

I turned back again—how did the person know my real name? Unless, of course, it was Alan Noodletire. Which it was. I slowed Trusty down to a walk, and Alan stopped the horse he was riding.

  He looked at me. “I know you don’t know how to get out, but if you won’t try and look for a way out until we find Jennifer, well, then, I’m going to help you find Jennifer.”

   I nodded. “Good. Come on, we have to get to the River Thames. Have you ever been to London?”

 Alan scoffed. “I live in London.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. Then you can get us there.”

He coughed. “Well, uh, okay. This way!”

   I shook my head. “You mean this way?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I was just testing you. I thought you said you didn’t know how to get there?”

  “If you have forgotten, I live there, too. I just wanted to test you.”

     “Well, Father always drove me—it’s not like I paid attention or anything.”

   “Hmm.”

We rode out, heading toward what was London in our world.

A few hours later, the smell of smoke and the stench of the Thames reached us, and I knew we were close. Unlike Alan, I always paid attention to the different landmarks.

   “Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” asked Alan snootily.

I nodded. “Yes. Smell the stench.”

   Alan smelled and wrinkled his nose. “Okay, so maybe we are close.”

I sighed, and urged our horses onward.

  “So,” I asked, “where did you get your fine horse?”
Alan looked away. “Oh, you, know, from the stables. I didn’t enjoy it, but I was sure it was the only way home.”

   “Oh,” I said, “truly.”

Silence. Only the soft padding of the horses hooves betrayed that we were there at all. Trusty had finally gotten tired, which was why we were walking to London instead of cantering. I supposed Alan’s horse was tired, too.

  “So,” I asked, breaking the silence, “what’s your horses name?”
I glanced over at the dapple-gray mare.

   “I think her name’s Monica,” he said. “I’m not sure, really.”

I laughed. “She looks more like a Stardust, to me.”

   Stardust whinnied, as though in agreement. And so I dubbed her Stardust. I was kind of royal, after all.

  And then I saw it—the Thames. I urged Trusty into a canter.

“Allegra, wait up!” yelled Alan.

  But I’m afraid I didn’t.  I didn’t pause until I reached the edge of the Thames. I glanced at a washerwoman who was washing her clothes.

  “Excuse me,” I asked, “did a young man pass by here not too long ago?”

She nodded. “Yes, an old friend of mine named Sean. Do you know him?”

  I nodded. “I am Rowena.”

    She gasped. “You’re Rowena? Take off your hood, child, let me see your face! Sean has told me a lot about you. You see, you’re like the little sister he never had.”

  I nodded, and took off the cloak. “Please, in which direction did he go?”

She pointed. “That way.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

And I urged Trusty into a gallop—we had to find Sean and have him help us find Jennifer—and soon. I didn’t know how much more I could take of being Rowena.

  Or Jennifer as being Princess Aspen.