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Tuesday Tales – Train

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Hello everyone!  It’s time for another Tuesday Tales!  This week’s word prompt is “train“.  Believe it or not, we are still with Thatcher and Miranda in The Thirteenth Knight (see how I use “train” in a medieval tale!).  Please stop by the other incredible authors of Tuesday Tales and see how they use the word “train“.

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Thatcher followed close behind Thaddeus as the king and his knights stormed into the throne room of the palace.  They had marched through town after town to the cheers and fanfare of the people.  However none of it mattered to Thatcher.  He glanced around the throne room wildly looking for Miranda.  Home is not home until she is in my arms.

He turned as he heard the soft whisper of fabric.  He smiled overjoyed as Miranda scampered across the throne room, the train of her silk gown brushing against the cold marble floor.  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulder as he caught her in his arms.

“You are home,” she gushed.  “You are safe.”

“Aye, I am, my love.  I missed you.”

“I missed you also.”

The joy of their reunion was cut short as they found Thaddeus studying them silently.  Miranda pulled free from Thatcher’s embrace.  She stood straight as she returned her uncle’s glare.  “My sweet knight, I have some business I need to discuss with my uncle concerning my impending marriage.  Please excuse me.”

Thatcher watched with pride as Miranda strode across the throne room to Thaddeus.  She tugged him away from the celebrating knights and lords for a private audience.  As she whispered urgently to the king, Thaddeus’s eyes locked tight on Thatcher.  There was no emotion in the monarch’s eyes.  Will she be able to convince Thaddeus to let us marry?  He doesn’t seem convinced by her pleas.

A cold breeze whirled through the warm, sun filled throne room.  Thatcher’s heart slammed in his chest as a all too familiar dark shadowy haze shimmered in the center of the room.  Several more of the same dark shadows slowly appeared.  Thatcher dodged the shadows and the screaming occupants of the room as he ran to Miranda.

He grasped the hilt of his sword and drew it as a black clad soldier solidified before him.  The man swept his arm, violently knocking the blade from Thatcher’s hand.  Thatcher snarled at the tip of a dagger pressed beneath his chin.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see at least two dozen of the ebony garbed men holding the occupants of the throne room captive.  He swallowed as his gaze stopped on Thaddeus, the king shielding Miranda from the ambush with his body.  Thatcher snorted.  I hate being this powerless and unable to protect her.

He tore his chin away from the dagger tip as a cold, evil chuckle filled the room from the doorway.  An all too familiar chuckle.  A growl erupted from his throat at the sight of Brunon.  The Count was flanked by another dozen of the black clad soldiers.  He laughed amused by the terrified faces that stared at him.

“What is the meaning of this, Brunon?” Thaddeus demanded.

Brunon slowly strutted to the king.  An evil smile spread across his lips.  “I think my meaning is clear, Thaddeus.  I want the crown.  I’ve wanted it for years.  I put my plan into action when I sent my troops to attack your brother’s castle.  I would have had possession of the kingdom by now if this beautiful girl hadn’t been rushed away.”  He reached out and brushed his weathered fingers against Miranda’s cheek.  She recoiled at his touch.

Thatcher launched himself at Brunon, rage coursing through his veins.  The black clad soldier restrained him, bringing him back to his place with a dull thud.  Brunon turned slowly at the noise.  He smirked at Thatcher.

“However, Thaddeus, you do not seem to be the obstacle in my way.  I obviously can take the palace.  But can I claim the only key to the crown?  I doubt I will completely possess Miranda.”  He brushed across the floor until he was nose to nose with Thatcher.  “That is, until I dispose of the valiant knight Thatcher.”

Thatcher could hear Miranda whimper at Brunon’s words.  He glared defiantly at the Count.  Brunon waved his bony hand in the air.  “Take his majesty and his thirteen knights to the dungeon.  Secure them.  They will be executed the morning of Miranda’s and my wedding.”

Thatcher fought against the grip of the black clad soldier as he was dragged towards the throne room door towards the dungeon.  Miranda’s sobs echoed in his ears as he was led away.

Don’t forget to check out the other excerpts from Tuesday Tales!

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About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on June 3, 2013, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.

  1. Great post and very clever use of the word prompt!

  2. I Love this one! Very nice!

  3. No.. This is stressing me out.. You tell an excellent story..I am completely hooked on this…xx

  4. It’s not looking good for Thaddeus, Thatcher or Miranda but I’m sure somehow they’ll be set free

  5. now, i’m wondering how thatcher will get out of this one to save Miranda. great build up.

  6. Nice post this week!

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