The Last Teaser...

So it’s getting real now, people. Just over a week to go until THE LAST KNIGHT hits the shelves.

Nine days to be exact.

Nine days. Wow, that’s a scary thought. Emotionally, it’s been a crazy rollercoaster ride over the last couple of months. I’ve gone from incredibly excited to feeling sick with fear and worry. And I doubt that’s going to change in the next week.

I’ve had days where I am so excited to get this book out there – to see what people think. And I’ve had days where I think I’ve made some huge, crazy mistake.

But what’s kept me going along this path has been the overwhelming support of the people around me. Friends, family, people I barely know,  who are still supporting the launch of this book. They have all made it possible for me to follow through on the promise I made on the spur of the moment back at the beginning of April.

Spur of the moment it might have been, but it’s still the right decision. Panicky feelings aside. This is the right choice for me. Because being a writer for me was never about making money or being famous. It was about telling some stories that are fun and entertaining, and hopefully touch people in some way. I don’t have to have a publisher or an agent to do that.

So this week, seeing as we are getting so close to release day – just a teeny, tiny snippet of a teaser, from about midway through the book. It might give a little something away, but it’s not too spoilery.

 

My fingers tingled with static electricity building in the air. My heart hammered in my chest.

I turned the corner and stopped dead, like I’d hit a solid brick wall.

At the far end of the corridor was a big glass case with a suit of gleaming armour. I could have blamed the overhead light for the way it glowed, but I’d have been lying. Perhaps to anyone else it looked like a regular display, but not to me.

I edged forward, my feet like lead weights. The glass case grew closer, and I could feel Lance just one step behind me.

There it was in front of me. A huge broadsword hung on a set of supports. The hilt was bound in leather, turned black with age, and a blood red stone was held in place on the pommel by a metal griffin, so perfectly moulded that it almost looked alive, its eyes tiny chips of ruby. The blade was unmarked and undamaged, as flawless as the day it was forged.

Excalibur.

 

Chapter Twenty-One, THE LAST KNIGHT

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