“Margaret finally drifted into a fitful sleep and she had a vivid dream.
She was in a great courtyard surrounded by a thick, stone wall. Dense crowds of people lined the inside of the walls leaving a circle of rough grass in the centre. Two men stood in the centre of the circle, facing each other with their heavy swords drawn. One knight was dressed in silver chain-mail covered with a white tunic. Golden crosses adorned the front and back of the tunic and a cross wrought of a shining, golden metal topped the knight’s silver helmet.
The opposing knight wore a black suit of armour covered by a long, red cloak that touched the ground behind him. A plume of red feathers decorated his black helmet.
The faces of both knights were covered by visors.
The knights launched into fierce fighting. Swords clanged heavily against each other as the two knights swooped, dived and lunged, each waiting for an opportunity to out manoeuvre the other. Margaret watched as the black knight forged forward in a show of extraordinary strength and crashed his great sword into that of the white knight. Both swords flew up into the air and landed with a crash at Margaret’s feet.
“Give me my sword, Margaret,” the black knight extended his leather gloved hand towards her.
“Everything you could ever want will be yours if you give me my sword, Margaret.”
In the dream Margaret had a vision of the future. She saw herself in a lovely cottage near the ocean. She had a husband whom she loved and two sweet little children clinging to her skirts.
In a daze, Margaret took a step toward the black knight and extended her hand towards him. She heard raucous cheers from the crowd. The sound was unpleasant, like fingernails scratching a chalk board.
As her hand neared the black knight it entered an ice-cold pocket of air. It burned her hand like touching dry ice and she withdrew it quickly. The cheering turned to hisses and boos. The memory of the black cat she had encountered in the cupboard at the Inn entered her mind at the sound.
She jerked backwards. The vision was enticing. Margaret desperately wanted the love and security of a home with a devoted husband and beautiful children. She wanted what she had lost when her parents had been taken away from her earlier that year.
The black knight was facing her. His eyes burned behind the visor like smouldering coals.
Margaret shouted the word. The black knight was evil. Anything he gave her would come at a high personal price.
She picked up a sword and turned towards the white knight.
As she stepped towards him, she was enveloped in warm air. It smelled of freshly cut grass in the summer time and the strong scent of jasmine flowers.
In the dream, she had a memory of her younger self gathering armfuls of the newly mowed and sweet-smelling grass and depositing it into her father’s wheelbarrow. The sky above was pale blue, unmarred by a single cloud as the sun shone down.
She handed the white knight the sword. As his gloved fingers closed around its jewelled hilt, the blade of the sword started to glow with a white light so pure and bright she had to look away.”
Sue Vincent made it really easy for me this week with her photograph prompt, Blade. The above is an extract from my forthcoming novel, Through the Nethergate.
You can join in Sue’s challenge here: https://scvincent.com/2019/02/07/thursday-photo-prompt-blade-writephoto/