Emily De Dragonheart: Courier

By Ruth Ann Ridgeway

Emily Drayhart was taken from school under false
pretenses. She thought she was going to visit her mother
in a hospital halfway across the country. Instead she was
escorted through a time tunnel and becomes Emily de
Dragonheart: Courier. The time change is back to sixteen
hundred eighty only with a twist. There were dragons, trolls,
and a bounty of unbelievable adventure to overcome.
She was given an egg, a dragon egg, and put on
an impossible mission of transporting it through territory
that was fi lled with obstacles. It was her task to deliver this
egg to the Underworld for the battle of: Good and Evil
before the egg hatches and becomes imprinted with her.
Stay with Emily as her unknown past unfolds
exposing mysterious secrets. Immerse yourself in the
varied facets that legends are woven from as she carries
her burden in a time she never knew existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456865528

Ruth Ann Ridgeway

Ruth Ann Parcel Ridgeway was born and raised in Missouri. She married Stanley in 1972 and together they have four children and four grand children. She teaches on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, and lives in Missouri in the summer month. While she enjoys riding horses with her grand children she also enjoys teaching them to sew on treadle sewing machines. Every day is an adventure and to be enjoyed.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Ruth Ann Ridgeway.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2011901947

ISBN:   Hardcover      978-1-4568-6551-1

              Softcover      978-1-4568-6550-4

               eBook           978-1-4568-6552-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Acknowledgements:

1:   Time Tunnel

2:   Mavis’ Warning

3:   Emily de Dragonheart

4:   Battle of the Wolf Clan

5:   The Hatchers

6:   Glimpse the Underworld

7:   Valley of the Sprites

8:   Fairy Circles

9:   The Dragon Hatches

10:   Town Folk

11:   Elenora

12:   Dream of Falling

13:   The Wells That Go Both Ways

14:   The Premonition

15:   Soldier Through Time

16:   Meet General Crawley

17:   The House of Crawley

Acknowledgements:

I would greatly like to acknowledge all of those who cheer me on in my endeavor to become a writer. However, I cannot name nearly all of them. I will attempt to name the ones I can. Jean Polson and Ed Tietsort, as well as Betty Blankenship my elementary teachers. They were predominantly the ones who pushed for better work out of me. Mr. Wellman my High School Language Arts teacher.

With all sincerity it was my mother who always asked what I had done in school that day so Pauline Parcel, my mother, and my father Loyd J. Parcel who always wanted me to do better in school.

My friends I grew up with as well as my sisters known as the East End Sisterhood: Rose Lee and Roberta Lee. Patti Wheeler, Mona Lou Brown, Donna Sue Blue, Glenda Rae Vestal, Fayetta, Linda Rose West, Cinda Mathes, Alice and Becky Davis, Lila, Betty, Melba, Jodie Horton, Linda Lou and Alberta Parcel my cousins, Dianne Irey, Mary Ellen Sparks, Debbi Casady, Deana Pickering, Julia Ann and Penney Morgan, My friends from high school Anita Caley and Sherry Gillum, and any friends I might have inadvertently left out. My brothers who pushed me to be better at spelling and writing and math, and were fairly good role models I could not live up to: Buddy, Rudy, and Ralph Parcel. My husband Stan because he is always my best friend, and my children who put up with my ways Susan, Stanley Wayne, Sandi and Sabrina. Every grandmother would include their grand children at this point so: Emily and Samantha Dover and Corbin and Aviendha Gilliand.

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Chapter 1

Time Tunnel

E mily had sat all afternoon in the principal’s office, her red head turning first to the left and then to the right. She waited impatiently for someone to come and get her, or for a phone to ring. Her mother, she had been told, was in critical condition in a hospital halfway across the country. She didn’t know if she would get to tell her one more time that she loved her. Emily sat waiting and watching the door, scrutinizing everyone entering and leaving.

Would her father or grandparents come and get her to rush to the airport, or would the principal take her to meet a family member? Her moist blue eyes glistened as she watched for a familiar car to arrive. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and her cell phone was in her hand, even though it was turned off, as was the rule in school; it gave her added security to clutch it. She held it so tightly in her white-knuckled hand; her thumb kept opening and closing the receiver that held the earpiece, as the clock ticked away on the wall. She kept her fingers clinched in a crossed position so her mother would be all right.

It had been forty-five minutes, going on a lifetime, since she had been called to the office, and still no sign of a familiar family member. Emily waited and watched. Her heart kept beating, but she had to remind her lungs every once in a while to draw a breath. She was so afraid that her mother would die before she got to see her one more time. She restrained herself from tears, knowing quite well that if one slipped down her cheek a bucketful would follow. There was no way anyone in school was going to see that happen. Not Emily who played basketball with the big boys and smoked the whole cross-country track team on an injured ankle only a few weeks earlier.

The bell in junior high had rung, and the younger kids were suddenly in the hallway shoving items into and retrieving books from their metal lockers. Emily became aware of the length of time it took for students to clear a hallway and the noise that they generated, as though she were a sensor. She sat watching and waiting for students to clear out and leave her in peace. Her senses were acute as she sat and waited in the secretary’s office, for the end of her life, as she would know it.

Emily was looking out of the door at the changing October scenery and thought how her life would be changing, just as the seasons were. Knowing it would go from sunny and cheery, to barren and desolate, as she knew the New England landscapes could look.

A vehicle finally pulled to the curb outside. It looked like the kind that a funeral home would send, Emily thought to herself, as she quickly assessed her situation. Hope glimmered; maybe it was from the airport. It was a black SUV by no other than Cadillac. Money is what that car cried. Whoever drove that baby had to belong to money, so it must be someone other than her family. Now she hoped it was the airport’s idea of a limousine; surely her mother was stable.

The driver walked quickly to the office door. He was wearing dark glasses and a black suit coat looking like someone very important. He spoke to the secretary in a hypnotic voice and asked that Emily come with him. The secretary nodded at Emily and watched as she gathered her things.

Emily looked questioningly at Ms. Georgia, the secretary, who always double-checked all paperwork. The secretary had always made certain the child was comfortable with whom he or she was leaving, before allowing them to go out of her door. But, Ms. Georgia? Emily refused to pull her eyes from the secretary who sat at her typing.

You kids go on now and have a good time. Ms. Georgia had seemed unconcerned, as this unknown, possibly incognito driver in dark shades escorted Emily out of the door. She had hardly given a glance as the two left the building.

Have a good time? she muttered to herself mimicking Ms. Georgia as they walked to the vehicle. This isn’t right! she thought it so loudly she was certain she said it aloud. Had the man hypnotized her?

Have a good time, kids? What was Ms. Georgia thinking? Emily stalled at the hallway door and looked back at Ms. Georgia, who was now typing envelopes, as she left the building. She had never seen this man before, and no one had introduced him to her or to anyone else that she knew of.

Just as they reached the SUV, Emily turned one more time and looked at the schoolhouse door. Something wasn’t right. Her body physically shook as this stranger took her bag and phone and opened the door. Placing his right hand on her head, as she had seen police officers do on television shows, he seated her inside the vehicle and ordered her to buckle up, placing the belt in her hand. Emily felt like a little kid again with her nose pressed to the door glass looking back at the schoolhouse that had been her solace; her lifetime had been spent there in a protected environment. Now she felt like it was throwing her out. Her stomach felt wrenched. It wanted to twist and turn in knots.

Emily looked one last time as they drove from the school’s circle driveway. Her mind raced. The man still had not introduced himself to her and had not been introduced to her by anyone. He now held her bag and cell phone, shutting off her only line of communication. What if he were some sort of pervert who called schools and picked up unsuspecting children? She let her mind wander. At sixteen years of age, Emily rarely ever thought of herself as a child anymore, yet here she was calling on childhood securities.

Sliding in beneath the steering wheel, the driver quickly glanced to see that Emily’s belt was buckled. He shifted the SUV into drive, his foot barely touching the gas pedal, as he sped to the first speed bump, slowed, then sped to the next. After turning into the street, he picked up enough speed to get away from school fast.

Emily’s heart skipped about three beats in a row, making her fingertips tingle and her knees feel weak. She feared she might pass out from the realization that she had been abducted from school in front of everyone, and no one had tried to stop it.

I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. The driver’s deep voice made Emily withdraw her hand from the door handle.

How had he known she was thinking to jump from the moving vehicle? I don’t know who you are, or where we are going, she reasoned aloud and then demanded to know. Who are you? Still not daring to look at him as she kept her eyes straight ahead on the road and committed to memory every move the car made. One turn here, two turns there, she had to remember everything for survival, as she watched the road change. The familiar road felt very different with this man at the wheel.

His hypnotic voice was there again, and she settled back into the seat. You were called is all he said as they entered a tunnel, which had water running down the sides and into a channel along the side of the roadway. She had been through this New England landscape her entire life. She had crossed through this tunnel many times in her life.

I was called? she grumped indignantly, while hastening a glance at his face, then back once more to the road. Who called exactly is what I’d like to know! I need my cell phone back. I work after school to pay for that, she said as they proceeded into the darkness of the tunnel. There was no accident, was there? Emily quickly realized she had been set up.

No. Your mother is in a meeting all day and knows nothing of this. This won’t take long. We’ll soon be there. His voice, though soothing, did nothing to calm Emily this time.

There? she shouted. There! Where? Emily slammed herself back into the heated seats of the Cadillac SUV. Her mind raced. How the heck did Ms. Georgia let this man get past her? No one ever got past that woman. Her own mother had to show an ID when she brought track shoes one day. How did this weird man dressed obviously like someone to question get her out of the school without an ID? Had Ms. Georgia known him? Did he hypnotize her?

You will know it when we reach it, the same as last time and the time before.

Emily had let her mouth shoot off before it soaked in. She could not recall ever seeing this man before. Last time? Time before? This was not right. Emily frowned, as she looked around, afraid to take her eyes off the road.

You will know it when you see it. It is time to set back now. We’re almost there. The driver braked for the slower car ahead of him and then punched it, so the black SUV sped to the end of the tunnel.

Emily’s head was pushed back by the force. She had read that attackers were more aggressive if their victim appeared to be fragile and vulnerable. She knew not to cry and focused on her clothing instead. Her shoes were tight, as were her jeans. Nothing was loose except her jacket, and she could zip that, if she should have the opportunity to jump from the moving vehicle. Her hair was up in a French braid, no problem there. Her hand slaked once more to the handle of the car. Just as the end of the tunnel came into view, the scenery changed, and as it did, she took a quick unbelievable glimpse at the driver. It had looked as though they went through an invisible sheet that sparkled and snapped as they moved through. Then the car, highway, and modern clothing all disappeared.

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Chapter 2

Mavis’ Warning

S he felt as though she had been hurled from the vehicle. Emily looked down and found she was walking, stumbling, ankle deep in ruts on a dirt road. She had never walked on a dirt road with ruts cut in it before. It felt as though she had been catapulted through time. She looked around to see what everything around her looked like.

This was definitely not the road she had been on in the SUV. Now she found herself stumbling along beside a man whom she had known only as the driver. The car was missing, but he led an ox that pulled a small two-wheeled cart. They were hurrying as though they were on a schedule.

Devastated, Emily yelled out, Did you just see that? What the—hey! Who stole my clothes? My mom is going to be mad about this. Where is everything? What the— She turned around at the middle of the road looking the landscape over for any recognizable sign that she was near her hometown or school. What the heck is going on here? Her voice squeaked with tension. She was wearing a plain blue dress that reached to her ankles and a once-white pinafore that was nearly as long as her dress. Her feet were clad in some awful black boots that looked like something an old man might scavenge from a dumpster, she thought. They reached clear to the knee and felt uncomfortable with patches to keep her little toes from sticking out through holes of both boots. What? Not even a ball gown? Am I supposed to wear this… this thing? She took the skirt of the dress and pinafore in both hands and began whipping it back and forth to test it for a reality check. It was real, she reasoned.

The year is 1680, and you are in a world that is very different than anything you know. Do not speak until you are spoken to, keep your head bent low, and do not look anyone in the eyes. You are known as a courier. You will be given a parcel to transport, and you must follow directions to the letter. You won’t like it if you do not, the driver stated everything clearly and concisely, knowing that the girl had a difficult task ahead of her.

Emily had been transported into a time period she hadn’t even paid attention to in history class.

Drugs? Emily stopped dead still in her tracks. She looked at the man giving her important instructions. Had this actually happened to her? What the heck! What am I now, a drug dealer? Then she stormed at him. You idiot! You have the wrong girl if you think I am going to go back in time and deliver drugs. What are you anyway? Emily crossed her arms over her chest and frowned him down. I’m not just some country hick you can take advantage of!

Her mouth sometimes got her in trouble. She had listened to what he was saying, so she didn’t want to pass up this chance to just say no. In fact, she wanted to take this chance to say, Hell no! I’ll kick butt if you try to make me do any such thing, and when we get home again, my father will deal with you, mister, and you won’t like it. Like she thought he would fear for one moment what her father might do. She was grasping at something to make him understand that what he was doing wasn’t right. Inconceivably wrong is what this whole nightmare change of century and clothing thing was.

This is the year of our Lord, sixteen hundred and eighty. No, there are no drugs involved. You won’t have to worry about that. You will, however, have to face odds you will not like. He looked at her and said softly, Emily, there are couriers who deliver many things other than drugs. These people would not know anything about an aspirin, much less open market cures for anything or drugs as you know them.

1680? How the heck did that happen? Who are you? And read my lips. She placed the tip of her index finger beside her mouth for emphasis. I will not like what? Any more than I already don’t like this? She pointed straight down to the ground in front of her. Emily was dumbfounded as she looked incredulously at this man she knew only to be the driver of the car. She had tried to look her toughest at him, to avert any misconduct. She had been an honor roll student. This was not supposed to happen to honor roll students. It especially didn’t happen to the ones who lettered in track.

The driver continued his spiel, trying to make Emily understand that this was survivable, though different than anything she would ever encounter in modern day New England. "You will not like the mannerisms of