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.
