Escape from Drangan
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Escape from Drangan - Carol V. Johnson
Copyright © 2021 by Carol V. Johnson. 516096
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.
Xlibris
UK TFN: 0800 0148620 (Toll Free inside the UK)
UK Local: 02036 956328 (+44 20 3695 6328 from outside
the UK)
www.xlibrispublishing.co.uk
ISBN: Softcover 978-1-6641-1527-9
Hardcover 978-1-6641-1528-6
EBook 978-1-6641-1529-3
Rev. date: 06/17/2021
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1 Hallowe’en
Chapter 2 A New Adventure
Chapter 3 All Alone
Chapter 4 Chiko’s Surprise
Chapter 5 Baked Alaska
Chapter 6 The Trap
Chapter 7 The Thunderbird
Chapter 8 The Aurora
Chapter 9 Escape From Drangan
Epilogue
If you don’t know where you are going, any path will take you there.
Sioux proverb
For Chloe
Celeste Curran
Lakota / Sioux words
Takoda / Friend to all
Haho / Ha ha!
Ishta / Young girl
Ohanzee / Shadow
Luta / Red
Ozuye / Warrior
Ina / Mother
Schila / Elderly person
Nituwe he? / Who are you?
Teetonka / Talks too much
Wakį́yą / Thunderbird / Omen of war
Lakota (Sioux) people are indigenous to North America and Canada and are made up of seven related Sioux tribes.
Today, the Lakota are found mostly in reservations from Dakota to Saskatchewana and Manitoba.
One of the most famous Lakota was, Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotake, known to us as Sitting Bull.
Records show Lakota history as far back as 900 AD.
PROLOGUE
1)%20The%20three%20faeries.jpgU nder the shade of a gnarled old willow, which grew somewhere in dense woods of the County of Tipperary, in the misty island of Ireland, grew a clump of red spotted toadstools.
On the tallest toadstool sat a pretty faerie with a cheerful round face and a small pointed nose. Her pretty pink dress, made of sweet scented rose petals, flowed in tiers about her. Stretching her shimmering gossamer wings, she combed her long blonde hair, which glimmered in the few rays of sun that managed to penetrate the canopy overhead. As she sat and combed, she hummed along to the magical sounds coming from the reed pipe that was playing nearby. Also enjoying the entertainment were two infant rabbits and a hedgehog. The latter dozed close by on a carpet of golden-brown, crisp leaves.
The babbling stream added its own blend of musical charm by gurgling and churning along its fern rich banks. Scented harebells nodded in time, their soft tinkles merging with the other sensuous sounds of the forest.
Bindi’s happy thoughts were rudely disturbed by an angry outburst from her youngest sister.
‘Stop playing that pipe Malla. You sound like a crow with bellyache,’ hissed Rubyana. ‘Bindi, make her stop! She has played that reed pipe for hours. Not only did I not recognise one single tune, but now I’ve got a headache.’
Rubyana stamped her foot angrily and thrust her hands on her hips.
Malla swung lethargically in her newly spun cobweb hammock, made by her eight-legged buddy, Cam. She continued to blow softly into the reed pipe, creating enchanting lyrical sounds, which soothed the soul and rested the mind.
‘Malla! Stop it,’ yelled Rubyana. Angrily, she threw a conker at her sister.
Bindi, the oldest and wisest of the three sisters, shook her head and, pointing her crystal comb at her youngest sister, said firmly in her usual warm, dulcet tones: ‘Rubyana. You must learn to be more tolerant. You know the small Takoda love the sounds of the reed pipe. It helps them rest.’
‘Yes. I like it,’ agreed a hedgehog drifting in and out of a soothing slumber. ‘Music makes harmony and not…’ and he fell asleep, snoring gently.
Rubyana stood up on her toadstool and put her hands on her hips. Her blaze of red curly hair rioting about her shoulders clashed violently with her orange lily-petal dress. Glaring at her two sisters she sneered: ‘well if I have to listen to that noise, I’d rather take myself off to the village and listen to those Human-Being pets. I’ve heard their offspring make a dreadful din.’
‘No Rubyana. You mustn’t. You know how difficult it is to find your way to Drangan. And once you are there, you will never be able to escape the Enchanted Forest. What if you get caught? It will mean the end of Faerie Hollow, and our community. The Sorceress, Faerie Queen Zia, would love that. She will have more prisoners, more riches and more power!’ exclaimed Bindi horrified.
‘Rubyana, hush,’ whispered Malla. ‘Look I’ve stopped playing and my reed pipe is in its case. Be good and do not make a hasty decision that will endanger us all.’
Malla sighed heavily and tossed her long black silky hair over her shoulder. ‘You are restless these days. You need to get back into gardening, creating new varieties of flowers and herbs for the Takoda.’ She shook her wings and stretched them. ‘Let us calm down and have a bite to eat.’
Bindi flew over to Rubyana and stroked her uncontrollable mass of red curls. ‘There now. Have some nectar of harebell and a slice of wild mushroom.’
‘Oh all right,’ sulked Rubyana. ‘But Faerie Hollow is boring the wings off me. We do the same things all day every day. All I do is grow new flowers for the Takoda, eat and sleep. It’s so dull in Faerie Hollow. I need an adventure. Some fun and new friends.’
She rubbed two tears that had threatened to run down her face with the back of her hand. ‘But I will not stay for long,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘SHHHHH’ whispered Malla as a distant crunch of dried leaves grew louder. ‘Someone’s coming.’
CHAPTER ONE
Hallowe’en
O ne Sunday morning, at the end of October, in the tiny village of Midsomer-Atte-Stoke, in rural Somerset, England, Mrs. Jennings, a large, round, well – liked lady, was busy baking bread and moist, sumptuous gingerbread. Her kitchen was brimming with delicious, mouth-watering odours. She popped outside to put her rubbish in the bin and found herself standing in a foot of snow!
‘EEEEhhhhhh,’ she squealed loudly in her broad West Country accent, as the soggy cold mass infiltrated her fluffy, pink slippers.
‘Morning Harriet,’ bellowed Brian Barrowclough, her ruddy-faced next-door neighbour, peering from over the fence. ‘This is very strange. Very strange indeed! Imagine tha’! Snow in October... Not just a sprinkling, a whole foot of snow!’
He scratched his balding head and frowned. Mrs. Jennings shook her feet one by one and stood looking at the white mass from the safety of her backdoor.
‘Oi can’t believe it Brian! What’s happenin’ to our weather? First the storms…the wind and rain, well, tha’s nearly normal, but SNOW!!!! In October!! Well blow me down.’
Just then Mischa the Shetland sheepdog, Mrs. Jennings’ owner, stuck her head around Mrs. Jennings’ chubby legs and had a look at the strange sight.
‘Hurump,’ sighed Cordelia the blackbird, sitting on a nearby branch. ‘We can’t get any juicy earthworms in this weather. Mischa! Ask your Human-Being pet to put out some bread. We need a snack.’
‘Ahhhh Brian. Listen to tha’ lovely blackbird still singing in this weird