Emma and the Dragon Tooth Sword

Gabriel F.W. Koch

Description

Thirteen-year-old Emma Walker has a plan. She must find a buried antique sword she learned about from an old map she found tucked in the back of an ancient book, sell the sword, and use the money to get herself and her mother out of poverty. The sword, crafted from a dragon's tooth and a scale from the center of the beast's breast, controlled the pirate Dragon Sanglant, living hundreds of years in the past, has a different plan for her. It draws Emma back in time where she learns that on the night of her father's fatal accident her fate became tangled with the sword, elves, a dragon and other creatures associated with the enchanted blade. On the reverse side of the map, Emma reads a notation about the sword's location, that it lay buried between yesterday and tomorrow. The obverse side shows a diagram of an ornamental sculpture garden, but not its name or location. However, Emma is not the only person interested in the sword. A strange middle age couple somehow learned she had the map and were determined to get to the sword before she could and claim it. Emma finds an ally in her quest when she befriends a girl form school. The girl's father, an old friend -- Mr. Rothstein -- of Emma's father, is an expert on ornamental gardens. Emma shows him the map, allowing him to copy it to help him search for it online. Once he feels he has found the garden, he becomes willing to help Emma locate and visit the garden if she can convince her mother she should go. After some cajoling, Emma, with the assistance of and assurances from Mr. Rothstein, her mother agrees to allow Emma to travel to South Carolina where Rothstein located her mystery garden. Halfway through the journey south they stop for the night. Emma spies the strange middle age couple at the same motel and nearly panics. When they leave the following morning, she forgets her map on the nightstand. Emma learns she lost the map after they reach their destination Murrells Inlet, South Carolina. Mr. Rothstein calls the motel but learns that no one found it. Later that night, Emma sees the middle age couple outside the motel they stay in. Certain she will lose the sword too, she and Joan decide to enter the garden and search using the innocuous clue "Between yesterday and tomorrow." Unfortunately, the middle age couple are there too, but what they read, Emma overhears is different from what she read on the back of the map. Ready to give up, Emma confronts a sculpture shaped like three people in one. In the middle is a woman her mother' age, in front of her is a boy Emma guesses to be eight, and behind her is an old woman. At the base of the sculpture, she spots a sign that reads "Between Yesterday and Tomorrow." Hearing the middle age couple approaching, Emma, with Joan alongside her, frantically digs behind the sculpture, stopping when she feels the hilt of a sword. The couple interrupts, demanding that Emma give them the sword. Emma bravely grasps the sword to claim it, feels Joan put her hands on her shoulders, and as she pulls the sword from the earth, the world around her shimmers and disappears. When she can see again, Emma discovers that along with Joan she stands on a narrow pier surrounded by dense fog. The only sound she hears is water lapping the wooden structure and a longboat tied at the end. Moments later, they both hear a sound like distant wind that approaches steadily. Suddenly a giant red dragon's head breaks through the mist and Joan nearly panics. Emma hears a voice in her

Sujets

• Imaginaire
• Fantasy
• Magic
• Juvenilee Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 26 mars 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781478758044
• Langue: English

Extrait

Emma and the Dragon Tooth Sword
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2017 Gabriel F.W. Koch
v2.0

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.


Outskirts Press, Inc.
http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-4787-5804-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919851

Cover Photo © 2017 thinkstockphotos.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


Prologue
E mma cried out and threw her arms up as the harness slammed her into the seat back. Noise, louder than the scream that tore from her throat, ripped apart her family’s car. Fractured light exploded through glass spider-webbed on impact, raining sparkling diamond shards of light that burned her eyes. Unwilling to close them completely, afraid that if she did she might never open them again, she squinted against the glare.
The car spun three times as it flipped and twisted into a ball of warped metal, glass, and plastic, finally landing on it wheels. Silence, except for the dull ticking of the dying engine, abruptly replaced the sound of the collision.
Emma listened to her exhale. She smelled crushed bananas and spaghetti sauce from ruined groceries and the sharp, acrid sting of leaking gasoline.
Her fingers grasped the harness buckle yanking desperately as she discovered the latch had jammed. Raising her head to see her father, she thumped the crushed roof. Blood trickled down her brow, mingled with the tears on her cheeks, which was when ten-year-old Emma Walker decided, Oh my God, I’m going to die.
Orange flames thrashed the front of the wreckage, reinforcing her fear. Nothing but fire moved until she heard an eerie deep-throated roar, the shriek of metal ripped apart to expose a narrow patch of night sky and a vision that filled her with both awe and terror.
When she heard a calm, unaccented male voice, Emma answered with a meek “Yes, sir,” and watched a huge indescribable creature fly into the black smoke billowing overhead as she felt herself lifted, and then passed out.

She awoke surrounded by blue-green curtains in a noise-filled room. The curtains moved when someone walked past the other side. She had an IV plugged into her arm. She heard her mother crying softly and a man speaking kindly as if trying hard to make her mother feel better when he knew the effort would prove unsuccessful.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Walker. I can’t explain it. Somehow, the roof tore open, directly above your daughter, but only wide enough that a passerby could reach inside and remove her before the tank exploded.”
Emma could not understand her mother’s tearfully mumbled words.
“No, ma’am. We’ve not yet been able to determine if your husband died on impact or in the explosion. Personally, from what I saw of the car, I suspect the impact took him. No, ma’am. Either way, death was instantaneous. He . . . He didn’t suffer. Yes, ma’am. Your daughter is a very lucky girl. We don’t know who saved her. Someone placed her on the grass alongside the road at a safe distance from the accident. Whoever that was left before the EMS arrived.”
Emma shook her head and tried to force out unwanted memories but could not escape the strongest one. The sudden appearance of a huge mouth with teeth she had thought might be as long as her arms, and the quiet but strong voice that had filled her mind and told her, “Stay calm. I am here, Emma. You are safe now.”
“Who are you?” she had wanted to ask, but did not think she would receive an answer. Then, she saw several dragonflies flying in spirals above her. Their wings, backlit by flames, glittered metallically, making her believe they were not real.
The next thing she remembered was a hand holding a strange-looking knife as it sliced through her harness. Lifted free of the carnage, Emma felt herself gently carried by someone she thought was a tall, thin boy with really weird long ears. He had jogged away from the car. Then a tremendous blast of heat had enveloped the wreckage. A ball of writhing flames exploded straight overhead but disappeared almost so fast that she had thought maybe the moon had swallowed their fury.

Later, at the hospital, everyone, including her mother, had told her only dinosaurs have teeth like those that she described, and all dinosaurs were extinct, which she knew.
“It was your imagination, Emma . . . just your imagination, dear,” her mother said softly as she brushed sweat-dampened hair off Emma’s forehead.


Chapter 1
F our years later, Emma Walker kicked off the covers with an energy she wished would also drive away her nightmares. All night, she sweated the way she did while defending her soccer team’s goal line. Her hands had knotted into fists that left moons in her palms from her nails. She rubbed her hands together, walked to the small window over her dresser, tilted her head, and stared at the star-riddled sky.
“If you’re real, where are you now?” she asked, but knew, as always, that she would get no reply.
Maybe the doctors were right. What I saw that night was imaginary. I hit my head hard. No T-rex suddenly appeared and ripped the roof right off the car to save me.
The idea that she might be crazy made her shudder, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, clutching herself.
Clouds moved lazily, uncovered constellations, and a half-moon which radiated its mysterious silver light illuminated her neighborhood and silhouetted spidery tree limbs raised high in the backyard.
I’ve never seen a light as pretty . . . or as haunting.
Then she shuddered when she heard the same voice she’d heard immediately after the accident, but this time, it sounded as though the speaker stood directly behind her, close enough to touch her shoulder.
“Be patient, Emma. The time for answers will soon be at hand.” She did not feel breath on her neck but thought she should have.
Emma spun around so hard she nearly fell and threw out her hands to catch her balance. Heart pounding painfully, she ran to the bedroom door and yanked it open. Cautiously peering into the pitch-black hallway, she stepped from her room and listened to her mother’s quiet snoring. She did not feel reassured. Instead, she felt creeped out.
Emma quickly returned to her bed, jumped in, yanked her covers to her chin, and glared at the window.
“Time for answers?” she demanded in a low voice so she did not wake her mother, feeling angry now. “Answers to what questions? Who are you? Where did you go?”
Stop it, she scolded herself, it’s your stupid imagination! Remember what they said about being crazy?


Chapter 2
F inished with choir practice the following afternoon, Emma walked to her town’s library and entered the brick building’s small foyer. Every coat hook held one or more of a rainbow assortment of jackets.
She found an empty bottom spot under a man’s heavy black woolen overcoat and wedged her jacket onto the hook.
Inside the main lobby, she felt calm determination. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed distant rows of shelves with only one destination in mind: a place where no one would walk up on her, where she could be alone to think, something she felt uncomfortable doing anywhere else.
She knew the library was not a place to be alone, but for her, the shelved books created a space unlike any other. She never could explain it and stopped trying after the last time she told her mother.
Her father had owned a bookstore in town before his death. As a child, Emma spent hours surrounded by piles of books. She loved their smell, the feel of the pages, and colorful covers. However, her mother closed the shop two years after the accident. They had been unable to compete with chain stores. Now, library books provided her with solace instead.
Her thoughts focused on her main problem . . . the voice in her mind that began haunting her again.
She needed to decide if she might really be crazy, if the voice she kept hearing at night and yesterday morning was truly her imagination or just a twisted hallucination.
Part of her wanted the voice to fit a third possibility, one that she struggled against accepting. Reality.
If I heard the voice , she thought, then what about that monster I thought I saw? Did I see it too? Yeah, right, Emma.
Playing with the idea, she progressed to, If something that unlikely happened to keep me from dying, why did it? I’m nobody special. I’m a “C” student. I do not have a boyfriend; I hate my hair, have bony knees and skinny legs, and a nasty zit on my chin again.
She rubbed her chin gently and shook her head. That’s enough, Emma. Maybe you really are nuts, and maybe that’s okay . . . for now. Nobody else knows.
She glanced at the shelf to her left and discovered she stood in a poorly lit section of the stacks.
“History?” She touched an old blue spine age faded into dull gray. She pulled the book out, opened it, and read the first page: Medieval Women, Their Lives and Loves.
Oh boy, she said to herself. Didn’t know they had time in their horrible lives for love. She replaced the book and dropped her