Tuesday Tales: 2021-1-5 Writing Clock

Happy New Year! I hope January is gracing you with positive vibes. Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where you’ll find entertaining excerpts from a group of hard-working writers. Writing is our passion. You can enjoy stories and see works in progress unfold. This week’s word prompt is clock, and the excerpt is from a fae-themed historical fantasy. Make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

“Rise! Defend yourself, scapegrace!” Nicholas Wycliffe huffed at the man lying on the ground at his feet, nudging his leg with a booted foot. When he didn’t move, Nicholas signaled for water and took a long draught before depositing the remainder onto the head of his opponent.

Jerking up into a sitting position, the man gave a hearty groan.

“A drink for Sir Randall as well,” Nicholas instructed an ever looming attendant.

“I’ll have ale, if you please, young Fen,” Randall Poster interjected, his eyes still closed.

“He’ll have water until practice is over,” overruled Nicholas firmly, and Fen raced off to fulfill his sire’s order.

Randall peered up at him. “Have a heart, cousin! Did you not rattle my brains enough with the last thud of your iron upon my head?”

“Had you defended your position well enough, I could not have come so close as to pummel your dimwitted noggin. The excess ale from last night has made you slow and clumsy.”

Randall rose on unsteady legs. “You are one surly bastard, Nicholas. Last night was the start of feast days. How could I withstand all the fine lasses offering me wine and ale in overflowing goblets?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Don’t let Father hear you call me that when he returns from the Holy Land, ere he pulls my mother into the solar for a serious heart to heart.”

“Oh, so your mood is not as bad as you pretend.” Randall took the ladle from Fen, making good use of the clear well water.

“It’s bad enough,” Nicholas snarled, impatient to reconvene practice. His gaze fell upon the faint mountainous shadows to the north. “Not only must I see to the defense here with Father gone but must deal with the lackadaisical attitude of my supposed right hand.”

“I am your right hand, and don’t you doubt it. But even the mighty Wycliffe firstborn must honor the holy feast days of the season. What will your people think if they only ever see you hack and bludgeon?”

“They would do well to think I work my ass off to keep their lives secure.”

“Surely all trust you in that regard. Even so, a man is more than fighting. Has the sun not travelled far enough across the sky today? Does not the clock inside indicate near time for supper? Your relentless seriousness will be the ruin of me. I have plans to share a trencher with the fair Gwendolyn.”

“And your lighthearted tomfoolery will be the death of me.” Nicholas sheathed his sword. “Yet you are right to a point. I must speak to Harding about the Sherbourne situation before nightfall. We’ll call it a day and resume tomorrow morning at Tierce.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt clock. Thanks for stopping by. Read the other amazing excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories

All rights reserved, copyright @ 2021 Flossie Benton Rogers