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

Chapter 14:
Be It Over?

Arthur and his team had made good progress. They’d proceeded straight up Temple from the warehouse and had acquired quite an entourage along the way. Some of Arthur’s other knights, who had completed their raids, folded into the parade, as had been planned. But what hadn’t been planned were the people—local residents, many of them children and their parents—who spotted the march from their windows and had spilled out onto the sidewalk to follow. Seeing Arthur and his knights in the flesh was a thrill, and seeing them on the march meant something was going on, probably something good, and they obviously wanted a front-row seat.

Jenny looked amazed as the number of followers kept increasing. Within a few blocks, the procession had outgrown the width of the sidewalk, and people were spilling out into the street, causing drivers to slow down and gawk at the impromptu parade.

Arthur had just passed the intersection with Los Angeles Street when the phone in his pocket began vibrating.

He frowned. Since all of his teams knew to meet at City Hall upon completion of their raids, and there was no need for communication, he felt a sudden chill run up his back. He slipped out the phone and glanced at the name— Lance. But rather than elation, fear seized him, and he hesitantly placed the phone to his ear.

“Yes, this is Arthur.”

A stony, heartless voice came out of the phone, and the words pierced his heart like a knife. “I have your pretty boy, and you want him back.”

Arthur sucked in a loud, shocked breath, drawing Jenny’s attention. “Arthur, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, his heart thumping frantically, that shadow of doom closing in on him from all sides. He said into the phone, “Who are you?”

Lance observed R. settle more comfortably into his seat, crossing his legs and smirking like a predator about to strike. Mr. L., as always, remained unreadable.

“Who I am isn’t terribly important,” R. began smugly. “Let’s just say I’m the true ruler of this city. It’s belonged to me for years, and I intend to keep it. Your pathetic attempt to return it to the people ends tonight.”

Arthur continued guiding Llamrei up the street as he listened, but allowed the mare to move at her own pace. “Is Lance all right? Do you have Sir Jack, as well?”

At Lance’s name, both Chris and Jenny leaned in closer.

R. let out a snort of disgust. “If you mean the faggot, yes, he’s here too.”

Lance bristled at the word, but Jack took it in stride. He looked alert to any possibility to put their plan into action and clearly had no intention of being rattled.

“You could really do so much better in your selection of knights, King Arthur,” R. went on tauntingly. “I mean, really, faggots? And wanna-be faggots? I’m certain you’ll be disappointed to learn that your pretty boy son is probably a fagboy too. Doesn’t that just disgust you?”

Lance burned with equal parts humiliation and hatred. Jack lightly elbowed him, a signal to keep his focus. Lance forced himself to stay calm.

Arthur felt a sickness well up in his stomach and surround his thumping heart. He knew, deep down, that this man wouldn’t hesitate to kill Lance and Jack. His tone, his words—this was a man without conscience or remorse. Arthur forced himself to remain calm.

“On the contrary, I could not be more proud of Sir Lance, and Sir Jack. They be outstanding young men.”

R. guffawed. “Yeah, right, men. That’s a good one. It’s those attitudes that’ve doomed your whole crusade from the start, King. Only the strong survive in this world, and might will always crush right!” He smirked again at the boys, obviously enjoying himself.

Arthur sat stiffly upon Llamrei, both Chris and Jenny leaning in anxiously. “How do I know my boys be still alive?”

Jenny gasped, and Chris’s eyes welled with tears.

“Do you have video chat on your phone?” R. asked with an exaggerated sigh, as though saying, “why do they never believe me?”

Arthur handed the phone to Chris. “Sir Chris, does this phone have something he called video chat?”

Chris took the phone and through blurred eyes pressed a couple of buttons on the touch screen to open the video chat feature. Before handing the phone back, he looked imploringly at Arthur. “Are Lance and Jack gonna be okay?”

Arthur nodded. Then he held up the phone and spoke into it. “I have it.”

R. turned the screen away so as to not reveal himself. Instead, he turned the phone to face Lance and Jack.

Lance couldn’t help himself. “Arthur, he’s gonna kill you! It’s—” An elbow to the ribs shut him down before he could finish.

“It’s a trap, Arthur—” Jack spit out before he, too, got an elbow to the gut.

R. glared and disengaged the video feature before returning the phone to his ear. “You, see, Arthur, your knights are alive and, like all children, incredibly stupid!”

A wave of panic assailed Arthur at seeing the boys struck so harshly, and he fought to control the fear in his voice. His breath felt tight in his lungs, and his heart pounded with dread. He should have been prepared for a man like this— there had been a great many of his ilk back in Britain.

But he hadn’t been prepared. Another error on his part.

Please, Lord, do not let Lance and Jack pay for my mistake….

He exhaled a deep breath then spoke into the phone, “Do not harm them. I shall do whatever you ask.”

R. glowed with delight. “Of course you will. And what I want is very simple. You’re to keep your appointment with the mayor. Proceed precisely as you planned, but know that I will be watching and listening the entire time. Should you try to double cross me, your fagboys are dead. I’ll call again with further instructions. It’s been a pleasure.”

He pressed “End” and beamed at the two coughing, gagging boys. “The end is near, for you and for him.” He sounded almost giddy.

Arthur saw the call had ended and lapsed into a brooding silence. Jenny gripped him tightly around the waist, and Chris squeezed the hand holding Llamrei’s reins.

“I couldn’t see your phone. Are they all right?” Jenny asked, almost breathless with fear.

“For the time being. But can I save them?” He shook his head in despair. “All my accomplishments, in Britain and here, all will be for naught if I cannot save them.”

“You will. You’ll think of something.”

Arthur spurred Llamrei into a fast trot, causing those on foot to break into a jog to keep pace.

All windows in the mayor’s office were occupied as Villagrana, the council members, and the police gazed out at the city below. The smoke had dissipated for the most part, but the sounds of sirens and the flashing of red and blue lights still crisscrossed the city.

Looking down, instead of out, Villagrana pointed. “What the hell is that?”

From all streets leading to City Hall, small lights bobbed and weaved and raised and lowered and flashed and winked. But all were on the move—toward them.

“Cell phones,” Gibson responded. “Kids light ’em up at concerts like that.”

“Those are all kids?” Sandra Gale exclaimed.

“Looks like it,” Gibson replied with a sigh.

“And look who’s leading the largest group,” Sanders announced, pointing up Temple Street.

All eyes focused on the man atop the white horse. There was a child seated in front of him and a woman holding on behind. More blinking, winking, waving lights filled the street behind him. Cars had slowed to a crawl, trailing the pedestrians, headlight beams like huge eyes opening up the encroaching darkness.

“Looks like the king approaches, Mr. Mayor,” Murphy declared with a look toward Villagrana.

“Hell, Chief!” the mayor responded angrily, running his hands nervously through his moussed hair. “Get your men and your ass down there.”

“My men are already down there, Mr. Mayor, but I don’t think it’s me he wants to see.”

“The Chief’s right,” Sanders said, turning to face Villagrana, who was visibly sweating with nervousness. “He wants us. And he’s probably got a thousand kids with him. I guess this is like a concert, Mr. Mayor, except you’re the star performer. You blow it, and they’ll storm the stage.”

“And then all hell breaks loose,” Murphy finished solemnly.

Ryan pulled his eyes away from the politicians and focused again on Arthur and his multitude of adoring, jubilant, and powerful children. He’d never have