He stepped into the wide hallway is a writing prompt taken from Winter of the White Horde. The book is the standalone sequel to my middle grade (read that as aged 9 to 90 in terms of the small but enthusiastic fan base) Guardians of the Forest series. The section the prompt comes from is shown below.
Winter of the White Horde, and the other four books in Guardians of the Forest are all on sale at 99c/p throughout August, for the summer holiday. Find them here. (You need to scroll down the Amazon page to get them all!)
‘Blue and silver? A flying horse?’
Tristan’s voice shook. He stood behind his desk, hands clasped to its solid edge to stop their shaking. Melda had been here. The disgraced, traitorous Seer had come to Etting and kidnapped Beron. His innocent son. A sharp coldness filled Tristan’s body, his stomach nauseated.
‘Do you know her, my lord?’ the tutor asked. His voice wavered too.
‘Yes,’ Tristan hissed. ‘An old enemy, once a Seer of the Sleih, a woman of pure malice, with reason to hate me and to hurt me.’
His mind whirled with nightmares of what Melda might do to Beron. He tried not to blame the tutor. The lady had played mind tricks on him too. On him, and his father. King Ieldon and the prince must not have completely destroyed her power, twenty years ago on Etting’s docks.
‘Will you organise a search party, my lord?’
Tristan brought his mind back to the urgent and horrific present. He gathered himself for the fight ahead.
‘Yes, immediately.’ He strode from behind the sanctuary of the desk, across thick rugs which warmed the stone floor. ‘She may not be far.’ As he said it, he understood how false was the hope, although she might need to be near enough to taunt him with messages, threats or … worse. He shuddered. He must tell Isabel. A conversation which worsened the roiling in his gut.
He pulled open the door, called over his shoulder to the tutor. ‘Find the steward, tell him what’s happened and to gather men to search.’ He stepped into the wide hallway where candles in sconces lit spaces empty of his father’s plunder, shipped home to its owners. ‘I will meet him and you at the stables. After I have spoken with Lady Isabel.’
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Love all this intrigue.
Here’s my contribution:
HE STEPPED INTO THE WIDE HALLWAY
This is going to be interesting, thought Alphonse, as he stepped into the wide hallway.
In front of him were half a dozen men-at-arms, their swords drawn, ready to charge.
Behind him was a similar number of King’s men and he knew he was irrevocably trapped.
It was either surrender or fight and probably be killed. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and he held his broadsword aloft with both hands.
Emitting a blood-curdling yell, Alphonse picked up pace. Startled, the men-at-arms retreated a few steps before regrouping to meet the lone onslaught.
Broadsword flailing, Alphonse hit the group at speed, the steel cutting through flesh and bone with lethal effect. Those who survived immediately fled, and Alphonse paused before turning to face the second group.
Already running flat out, the leader spied the raised broadsword, blood dripping from its blade, and, with a cry, launched himself at the bearer.
It was to prove his undoing as Alphonse cleaved his helmet, blood and brains spilling everywhere. The others paused for few seconds, giving the lone swordsman a chance to extricate his weapon and ready himself for another bout.
“Not worth it, men,” one shouted. “Let’s get out of here.”
Alphonse leant on his sword, regaining his breath. Now it was time to complete his mission – rescuing the fair lady Gatheda from the evil king’s clutches.
All he had to do was find the room in which she was being held and he could be on his way.
Easier said than done, for the hallway was not only wide but very long with what appeared to be scores of doors along it.
Well, waiting around won’t find out where she is, he thought, as he charged through the first door, sword at the ready.
The first twenty turned up nothing and he was almost at the point of giving up when he came across one that seemed much more ornate than the others.
Pushing it open with his foot, Alphonse advanced a few paces. The room was dark but he could just make out the hazy silhouette of a figure by the bed.
“Gatheda,” he called. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me, Alphonse, but I am not….”
A sword swished through the air and it was only Alphonse’s lightning reflexes that avoided certain disaster.
He turned to face his adversary – none other than the evil king.
“Die, you dog,” spluttered the monarch.
“Sorry your majesty, you first.” And Alphonse brought the broadsword down with all his might on the king’s head.
“Oh, Alphonse,” said Gatheda. “I knew you’d come for me. You and your trusty broadsword.”