Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

lowered it to the floor. He noted Jack doing the same.

R. smiled. “I see you have, too.”

Lance fought to meet the man’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

R. laughed hollowly. “I may have use of you both later, for negotiation purposes, if the plan I’m forming in my brilliant mind doesn’t quite come off. For now, your lives remain yours.”

He nodded to the two young Asians, who quickly set about untying the boys from their chairs.

“Put them in the holding tank for now.”

Lance and Jack, hands still bound behind their backs, were pushed toward the door Before they made it very far down the hall, Lance overhead the two men talking.

“You have a plan?”

That was the L. guy.

“Have your boys ready, Mr. L. The best you have. I’m going to call in Santiago.”

The office door closed, and Lance heard no more.

The holding tank turned out to be a small bathroom with a stainless steel sink and toilet, but no windows and no furniture. Their hands were untied just outside the door, and then Lance and Jack were tossed into the room like bags of garbage, the door slamming shut behind them. A lock clicked, and receding footsteps came to Lance’s ears.

Lance landed on top of Jack, who lay pinned beneath him groaning in pain.

“You trying to seduce me, Lance? I think it’s working.” He tried for a laugh, but winced instead.

Lance clambered off and carefully wrapped his arms under Jack’s, dragging the much heavier boy toward the wall.

“Thank God for those workout sessions,” he grunted as he heaved his battered friend upright and leaned him against the wall.

“Yep. Lance the Animal.” Jack tried for another laugh, but ended up grimacing with pain.

“Don’t move,” Lance instructed as he grabbed some toilet paper. Wetting the paper in the tiny metal sink, he tenderly wiped the blood from Jack’s bruised and battered face. He felt like crying and screaming in rage for what had been done to his friend.

Jack winced as Lance touched one cheek with the blood-soaked tissue.

“Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault!”

Jack gaped in surprise. “You seem to want everything to be your fault. Not healthy, my friend.”

“It is my fault, Jack,” Lance went on morosely. “If I hadn’t been acting like a baby and running away, we’d be home with Arthur and not here.” Damn, he was screwing everything up! “Now R. knows about Arthur’s plans.”

Jack mouthed, “Not all of them.”

Lance’s eyes flew open with surprise, and he looked around as though expecting cameras or bugs to be evident.

Jack waved him in close, and when Lance put his ear to Jack’s lips, Jack whispered something that made him smile. It was something, after all.

Pulling away, Lance returned to wiping off Jack’s face, terrified that they really had betrayed Arthur, even if it had been unintentional.

“We gave it away, didn’t we?” he whispered. “Arthur’s weakness.”

“I think so. I’m sorry.”

Lance gazed at his friend. “We both blew that one. We gotta find some way to warn him.”

Jack nodded, and they lapsed into a brooding silence, Lance contemplating their future, and that of the entire Round Table.

It was late afternoon, and The Hub was a hive of activity. The main teams had been sent out to set their traps and await Arthur’s signal. Six hundred knights had trooped into and out of the dry riverbed, gathering up their equipment and joining their assigned teammates. The other four hundred had been instructed to rendezvous at City Hall by seven o’clock.

Everyone was excited and anxious, knowing that this undertaking would be fraught with danger.

Arthur had directed them to get into position and wait. “At my command, initiate operations. Use caution at all times, my noble knights. Tonight ye be marching into history, but I cannot lose any more of you.”

A few had inquired about Lance, but in the bustle of preparations, the question died a quiet death. It was, however, never far from Arthur’s mind, or his heart. Reyna and Chris stayed by his side as the teams formed and marched away to meet their destiny.

Esteban and Reyna’s team was the last to depart. The remaining archers and swordsmen would travel with Arthur.

“Everything be ready, Arthur,” Esteban said after sending the last of the teams on their way, tossing Reyna a confident grin. She grinned right back.

Arthur nodded, eyeing Esteban appraisingly. When he’d first joined the crusade, the boy had been bald. Now his hair had grown out, accentuating his handsome good looks. But more importantly, he seemed to have grown over the past few months, not physically, but in maturity. Despite the callous joke Esteban had made at Mark’s expense, Arthur still saw enormous potential in this boy who not so many months ago had felt little hope for a future of value.

“I thank you, Sir Esteban, for thy knowledge and leadership on this campaign. You have grown much these past months, and I am deeply honored by your loyalty.”

Esteban stood a moment, speechless.

Arthur saw humility in those brown eyes.

“Oh, well, uh, thanks, Arthur. It weren’t so much. I know these streets real good and—”

Arthur held up a hand to stop him. “And you did not have to join us against some who were in the past thine allies. And you have been masterful in organizing these teams. Again, I thank you.”

Esteban nodded, his eyes flicking up to those of Reyna.

She rolled her own eyes and laughed. “His ego’s big enough, Arthur,” she said with a grin, “don’t make it worse.” Then she frowned. “Any word on Lance?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Arthur, he’ll be back and in charge,” Esteban assured him. “That kid kicks a—I mean butt, and he’s smart, and he’s got mad talking skills and….” He trailed off, struggling for the right words. “He’s just the right one for the job, Arthur, you know?”

“I know, indeed.”

Reyna gaped at Esteban and then shook her head in amazement.

Despite his fears for Lance and Jack, Arthur smiled. Esteban’s words helped assuage some of his guilt over replacing Lance, even temporarily. He studied Esteban and Reyna, so opposite and yet so perfectly suited for one another. They had come a long way in a short period of time.

“Godspeed, my knights. Tonight we take a major step toward the future of your city.”

They nodded and went off to gather their team.

The Hub still buzzed with the remaining armor-clad boys, who clutched their weapons and adjusted each other’s chain mail or breastplates.

Arthur spotted Chris struggling into his chain-mail shirt. His mind flashed back several months to Lance, struggling with his helm. He slipped Reyna’s phone from his pocket and checked the messages for the hundredth time. Nothing. Sighing, he stepped over to Chris and squatted before the boy.

“Thou shalt be at my side this night, Sir Christopher,” he said, adjusting the chain mail and slipping a helm one size too large over the boy’s small blond head. “I shall protect thee.”

Chris smiled, but his big blue eyes begat sadness all the same. “I know that, Arthur. I just wish….”

Arthur nodded, knowing exactly what the boy wished. “I wish they be here with us too, my boy.” He gripped the child by the shoulders and squeezed gently.

Chris’s eyes suddenly went wide, and Arthur stood to whirl around, hoping against hope that Lance would be there.

But it was Jenny. She stood before him wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, blonde hair falling loosely about her shoulders, her lovely eyes and mouth etched with concern.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I just had to see you.” She eyed the hustle and bustle around her, and then her gaze settled on Chris, armored-up for battle. “You’re going after the drug dealers, aren’t you?”

Arthur’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. He knew he shouldn’t be, but her astuteness always amazed him. “Yes, we are.”

Clearly terrified, she scooped Chris into her arms and held him facing Arthur. “Arthur, it’s too big for them to handle. It’s a war out there. A real war.”

“These children are no strangers to war, Jenny. Or death. Both have been their upbringing. If necessary, it be better to die for something than to live for nothing.”

Jenny’s mouth dropped open in shock. And then she looked into Chris’s eyes, the eyes of a damaged, cast-off child who’d been reborn.

Arthur knew there was no fear in Chris’s eyes, no sense of danger. And yet those eyes had always spoken of someone much older, someone who’d seen more of life than he should have.

Jenny gave Chris a kiss on one cheek and set him down. He instantly moved to stand beside Arthur. Chris’s blond hair had grown out from several months without a cut, and he seemed almost a miniature version of the king.

“Arthur, I’m afraid for you, for them. I care….” But she trailed off, her face rife with roiling emotions.

“You did reassure me that I do, indeed, possess the strength to lead these children. Tonight shalt be the true test. We do what be necessary if they are to have a future of value. Trust me, milady.”

“Where’s Lance? Isn’t he going with you?”

Arthur’s face drooped, and sadness nearly overwhelmed him. “Alas, he hath not returned. Nor hath Jack. I have texted him, but he hath not replied.”

“Oh no,” Jenny muttered, her brows furrowing with worry. “Arthur, something must have happened to him. He loves you, and he was coming back here. I know it. Oh God, Arthur, we can’t let anything happen to that boy. We can’t!” She sounded frantic.

Arthur nodded. “I have been unable to tell him….” He trailed off because he saw that she understood what he meant. “Jenny, do you believe history repeats itself?”

The question clearly caught her off guard. “What?”

“T’ween Mordred and myself were a series of misunderstandings. The end result was tragedy. Now with Lance there’s….” He let the thought trail off, unable to articulate it for fear it might come true.

“Arthur, I’m going with you,” she announced in that tone of hers which said, this is final.

Arthur shook his head. “Nay. It be too dangerous for a lady.”

“Reyna’s not a lady?” she replied sharply. “Look, Arthur, I can take care of myself, and I want to be there with you. I want to find Lance. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

She stood her ground, hands to her hips, soft features set with determination.

Arthur studied her with a steadfast gaze. Every time he saw her, she showed him something more, something extraordinary.

Alas, a woman of this age be confusing and terribly exciting, he concluded.

“Very well, Jenny. The time of destiny be at hand. Come.” With Chris walking between them, Arthur called out to the others, “Come, my knights, we march.”

All the boys assembled and dutifully followed their king and queen toward whatever destiny Fate had in store for them.

Since neither Lance nor Jack had their phones, and with no windows in their holding cell, neither boy had any idea how much time had passed since they’d been thrown in there. But they knew for certain that time was running out for Arthur, maybe for the entire Round Table, unless they figured out what to do.

They lay up against the wall side by side, thoughtful and brooding, lamenting choices made and not made. Words said and not said. But none of it mattered anymore, because neither boy really believed he’d come out of this alive.

“He’s gonna kill us,” Lance finally said aloud, though he’d been