The King's Henchmen: The Henchmen Chronicles - Book 1

by Craig Halloran

  Vern groaned as he rolled onto his side and said, “Funny. Feed me to the dogs, why don’t you?”

  The heavyset black warrior Cudgel walked up on Vern and glared down on him. “You should be fed to the dogs. You let those witches out. You betrayed us, the same as Shade did. I ought to bust your melon open myself.” He pointed a chubby finger at the incapacitated man. “Two of my brothers are dead because of you. There were four of us. Now, only Tark and I live!”

  “I didn’t do it!” Vern moaned and grimaced. “I swear it. By my brand and on the Elders, I didn’t do that!”

  Sticks kicked Vern in the backside. “Sure you didn’t. Why would a liar lie about that?”

  “I’m the best sword, after the Captain. You need me.”

  “Yeah, look at you. You’re a real fine fighter, all curled up in the fetal position,” Sticks said. All the Henchmen chuckled, aside from Cudgel. He turned his back toward the yard.

  “I’m a swordsman, not a brawler. And I fought my guts out against the Gond.” Vern winced. “Forgive me for not being born an animal.”

  “The rest of us fared well enough,” Horace said.

  “That’s ’cause you’re built like a chimney. Heavy as one too,” Vern fired back. “And let me point something else out to you brilliant bunch of sages. Don’t you find it funny that Shade, who was blamed for the prior calamities, wasn’t around for this one? Maybe the Captain got it wrong. Maybe we all did, because the same stench of treachery lingers without him.”

  Sticks and Horace exchanged a glance. Vern was right. Shade had been the fall guy for the prior failures, but failures continued to happen. Now they were blaming Vern. If they were wrong about Shade, they could be wrong about Vern. When Shade had come on board, the well of success ran dry. Now, it was still happening without him.

  “Vern’s right. It could be any one of us,” Sticks said.

  “Yes, it’s Vern,” Horace said. “But Shade is still a snake. I never liked him before, and I don’t like him now. He’s come after us anyway.”

  “Well, forgive the man for holding a grudge. And it ain’t me!” Vern said. He rolled over. Dominga was sitting with her back to the wall, looking at him. “See something you like, don’t you?”

  “No, I see a man with a face like a rotten tomato,” Dominga said.

  “You really know how to hurt a man when he’s down.” He turned away. “I guess I should have expected as much from one of the Captain’s whores anyway. But you’re missing out. My sword’s just as big and shiny as his.”

  “Pig,” Dominga said.

  Vern shrugged. “I’m not a pig. I honestly and sincerely find you attractive. I couldn’t say it before when the Captain was around. After all, he hoards all the girls, the same as everything else. But, seeing how we aren’t going anywhere, I might as well spill my guts out. Dominga, I love you.”

  The pretty ebony-skinned woman had to fight back a smile.

  Vern smiled through his busted lips. “I knew you liked me.” He closed his eyes. “All women like me.”

  Sticks caught Dominga picking her lip and trying to hide a grin. The little she-devil does like him. I’ll be. Vern wasn’t bad. They’d been riding together a long time. He did his work. But he had brought up some illuminating points about Shade and Ruger. Ruger did hog everything, from the loot that they recovered to the women he bedded. He hadn’t always been that way. He’d changed. Now, he’d changed again—for the better, she hoped. But they all still had the same problem—someone was betraying the group and making it look like an accident. But who?

  “We’ve got company,” Bearclaw said.

  Shade approached with a larger group of goons. “Good evening, friends. I was strolling the yard, and I had a change of heart. I decided that I would give you one more offer: two of my finest ladies for just one of yours. I’ll even let you pick which woman though I think Sticks is very much on the cusp between a man and a woman.” He peeked at her. “I think it’s the clenched brow that brings out the brooding man in her. But, like a prize sow, the woman of your choice will be well taken care of. You have my word.”

  Horace stood up and faced Shade. “Are you going to fight this time or talk?”

  Shade spread his hands out. “I don’t need to fight.”

  Horace threw a punch at Shade. The rogue slipped it, backed into his gang, and said, “Take them!”

  44

  King Hector held up Jake’s backpack and asked, “What sort of satchel is this, Ruger?”

  It was a good question but hard to explain to someone who had not seen the likes of it before.

  “A backpack,” Abraham said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “For storage.”

  The king turned the backpack around in his head. He shook it. “Something rattles inside. Listen to me. This isn’t the first foreign object that I’ve come across. I’ve seen other strange things not designed by anyone in my kingdom. Our enemies are developing new weapons to use against us. This might be one of them.” He shook it again. “What is it? Where did you get it?”

  “Your Majesty,” Leodor said with his hungry eyes glued on the pack, “if you will allow me, I will be happy to use the Sect’s resources to garner more information about it. The delicate services of the Zillons will unravel its mysteries.” He reached for it.

  King Hector pulled the backpack away like a child. “I don’t want the Zillons to unravel the mysteries. I want Ruger to tell me.” He narrowed his eyes at Ruger. The emerald pendant hanging on the king’s neck sparkled. “That’s an order from your king.”

  A strong force attacked Abraham’s mind. The fighter inside him battled against it, but something was pulling information out of him. It dug for the truth. A new layer of perspiration broke out on his forehead. He wiped it away. With the king’s intent stare haunting his soul, he reached for the pack. He decided not to fight it but to give in. He reached out and said, “All right, you want to know that truth.”

  “Yes.” The king handed him the pack.

  “Well… You can’t handle the truth! But here goes.” He pointed at the face of the badge stitched into the pack. “That’s a Pittsburgh Pirate.” He slung it over his shoulders, adjusted the straps, and buckled the fastener around his belly. “That’s how this works.” He took off the pack and unzipped it. “These little teeth make a zipper.” He zipped it back and forth really fast. “It makes a very distinct sound.”

  King Hector, Leodor, and Lewis stood with their mouths agape.

  “Now, wait until you see this.” Abraham dumped the contents of the pack out onto the table.

  The three other men made a noticeable ahh and crowded the table like flesh-eating vultures with eyes the size of saucers.

  Abraham had stuck a few items into the pack over the years, but he never removed what was Jake’s. He wasn’t sure what all was in there, but his heart melted the moment he saw his picture on a baseball card. His throat tightened, and his jaws clenched.

  The king’s delicate hands rummaged through the foreign hoard. “What are these marvelous items?” He picked up a half-empty container of orange Tic Tacs and shook it. His eyes brightened. I know what this is.” He put it to his ear and shook it. “It’s a music box. I like it.”

  Abraham would have laughed if his heart wasn’t swelling like a biscuit baking inside his chest. His picture and his boy’s belongings got to him. He swallowed the lump in this throat and picked up a book. “This is a coloring book. Those robot things are called Transformers.” He picked up a box of thirty Crayola crayons. “These are painting sticks.” He opened the lid. “See all of the pretty colors.” He tossed the box to Lewis.

  Lewis swatted it away with an appalled look. “Father, these items are bewitched. I wouldn’t touch them.”

  Abraham picked up the flashlight. It was yellow plastic with black ends. “This tube is a light, but it doesn’t work.” He started picking up and explaining one item after the other. “This is bubble gum. Long overdue homework. An unpaid electric bill. A bottle op
ener. An autographed baseball from Buddy Parker. A Zippo lighter and a pocket knife.” He choked up. He and Jake had been planning a camping trip that never happened. He’d given those items to Jake. They were Jake’s grandfather’s.

  Still filled with wide-eyed wonder, the King said, “How do you know the names of all of these things?” He picked up a multicolored cube. “What is this? It has so many teeny tiny gem-colored tiles.” He hefted it in his hand. “And it’s so light.”

  “It’s a puzzle.” He took a deep draw through his nose and took the cube. “Allow me. He started twisting the square. “It’s a puzzle. You have to get all of the same colors matching on all six of the sides. It was created by the great wizard… uh… Rubik.”

  “What happens when you solve it?” Leodor said.

  Abraham decided to have some fun. “Well, legend has it that whoever solves it will be granted a wish. But only the person that solves it.”

  When Leodor reached for the cube, King Hector snatched it away. “I will solve it.” He started twisting the cube like a madman. “Hah! Look at that. I have three white ones in a row. This will be no problem.”

  “Your Majesty, it sounds dangerous. Perhaps you should let me work on it for you,” Leodor pleaded.

  “Nonsense. It’s mine.” King Hector held his audience’s attention another ten minutes as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth. Finally, he hopped up and down and said, “This is impossible.”

  “Again, I will solve it for you, Your Majesty,” Leodor said.

  King Hector set the cube down on the table. He tapped it with his finger and said, “If anyone touches this cube that is not me, I will cut off both of his hands and feed them to the hounds.” He poked his son in the chest. “That goes for you, too.” He picked up Abraham’s baseball picture. His head tilted. “What tiny people must have painted this strange portrait. Who is this man?”

  Abraham looked the king dead in the eye and said, “That’s me.”

  45

  The king held the baseball picture up to Abraham’s face. “No, that is not you. And I don’t understand why you said that, either. What are these strange symbols on the miniature painting?” He handed the picture to Leodor. “Can you interpret them?”

  “No, but I will research it using the resources in the Sect’s library the first chance that I get,” Leodor said.

  King Hector picked up a small black frisbee and flipped it with his fingers. “You have a great deal of explaining to do, Ruger. I don’t understand how you came to knowledge of these objects. I need answers, clear and concise and not gibberish.”

  Abraham decided to spill his guts. “Your Majesty, I’m from another world. My name is Abraham Jenkins. That’s my name on that card”—he pointed at it—“and my mind is inside the body of Ruger Slade. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  Lewis’s sword whisked out of his sheath. He stepped in front of his father and held his long sword in the high guard position. “He is possessed, Father! He should hang!”

  With an appalled look, Leodor said, “I agree. This devil should not be allowed to live within the walls of this castle. He must be executed.”

  “No,” King Hector said calmly. “Son, put away your sword. I want to hear more about what this man—Abraham, is it?—has to say.”

  “But Father—” Lewis objected.

  “Do as I say!”

  Without taking his eyes off Abraham, Lewis sheathed his sword.

  “Your Majesty, that would be quite foolish. He is a demon that can speak only lies,” Leodor warned. “We must be rid of him.”

  Abraham swallowed.

  “Perhaps,” the king said as he tossed the frisbee up and down. “But at this point, what do we have to lose? The queen is dying. My enemies are chomping at the bit. We need something. An edge. Perhaps he can provide it.”

  “I agree with the viceroy, Father. Don’t allow this,” Lewis said.

  The king pulled up a stool sitting underneath the table and sat down. He waved his hands over the objects on the table. “We have a vault that contains more objects like this. I collected some of it. The rest was inherited. Sometimes one shows up in the fairs, and my personal merchants bring it to me. But none of it makes sense. And when we come across these possessed people, what do we do? We kill them out of fear without acquiring any new understanding of what they are about. I think that it’s time that we changed our tactic. Perhaps this is why our enemies have the edge. These otherworlders are on their side. It’s time to change the tide.”

  Leodor’s expression tightened as he stiffly shook his head. “Your Majesty, this is dangerous. As your chief advisor, I advise against it.”

  “That has been noted! If you object, then you may leave. Lewis and I can handle this… unless you want to leave too, son?”

  Lewis jaw muscles flexed. “I’ll stay. But if a demon climbs out of that body, I’ll split him in half.”

  The king extended his open hand and said, “Go ahead, Abraham. Tell me about yourself. I’m eager to hear it.”

  What have I got to lose? This isn’t real either way. Besides, maybe it’s therapeutic.

  Abraham opted for the truth and told the king everything that had happened after he drove into the East River Mountain Tunnel. By the time he finished, his limbs were weary. He was exhausted.

  The king didn’t say a word. He sat with his arms crossed, rubbing his emerald pendant between his thumb and finger. Finally, he said, “That’s one whale of a story. It rings with truth. But I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “Me either,” Abraham said. “It’s either true, or I’m dreaming. Or maybe we are all dreaming.”

  King Hector arched a brow. “Hmm… I see what you mean. The queen has many dreams. Wild ones. She tells me all the time. She won’t let the scribes write them down because she doesn’t want people to think that she was crazy. But maybe dreams are real. Who is to say? So the moment you took the sword, you changed. And another man appeared and disappeared through a mystical portal.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s sire,” Lewis said.

  “A ring of light. Leodor, has the Sect reported anything about this?”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  “And this other man you saw. You said he was unfit,” the king said as he took the baseball card from Leodor. “Not a well-knit man like this.”

  “No, King Hector. He wasn’t fit at all. He was shabby looking. Older. Like Leodor but fatter and shorter.”

  Leodor looked as though he’d swallowed his chin.

  The king chuckled and eyed the baseball card. “You have the look of a warrior though the clothing is very strange. Perhaps this other man was not fit for Ruger’s body. That might have driven the failures. But with that said, Abraham, I have a question for you. You want to return to your own world, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t see how that fits into my service,” the king said. “Your body is mine to command, but the mind is someone else’s. I don’t think that this can work out.”

  “King Hector, I gave you my word that I would try to find that egg. I’ll keep it. If I return, I vow to continue to help you if you will continue to help me.”

  The king scratched behind his ear and said, “That sounds fair enough. I’ll honor it.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty!” He kissed the king’s hand. “You won’t regret it.”

  “Just bring back that egg.” The king stood. “What about our men? What will you tell your men?”

  “Nothing. The truth. I don’t know.”

  The king laughed and tossed Abraham his backpack. “Let’s hope this campaign doesn’t end before it’s started.”

  46

  Viceroy Leodor made his way to the House of Steel’s archives. He was alone. His fingers twitched at his side as he moved quickly down the stairs, past a dozen wine cellars, and in through the wooden doors that led to the archives. It was a musty room with a vaulted ceiling and book shelving stacked twelve feet hi
gh. Large candles burned on the study tables spread out over the stone floor. Racks of scrolls sat against the walls as well. Inside were several scribes writing down the daily records with quill and ink. They wore blue robes with white collars.

  “Get out,” Leodor said firmly.

  Five bookish men stuck their quills in their ink jars and hustled out. They closed the creaking doors behind them. The doors rattled shut.

  Leodor made a quick pass through the premises. No one else was around. He headed to the back wall and passed underneath an archway, where a small door was blocking passage. He removed a key from underneath his robes and opened it. The room inside was pitch black. He muttered an arcane word. A soft yellow light illuminated the room with the quavering power of one hundred candles emanating from four globes that were attached to the top of a brass pole.

  The room was a ten-by-twenty rectangle with a small rectangular table evenly centered in the middle. Wooden shelves full of books lined the eight-foot-high walls. Small cobwebs filled the empty corners of the cedar shelving. Tiny bugs and spiders crawled away from the light and disappeared into the cracks and crevices.

  These were the oldest archives in the kingdom, eons old, but well-preserved in the cool dry climate. They contained records of the history of man near the beginning of time. They talked about life in Titanuus when only one kingdom existed. However, the language was ancient, forgotten, and very few could interpret it. The scribes would work on it slowly, but it was hardly a priority.

  Leodor’s hands rifled through a pile of scrolls stacked up neatly at the end of the farthest bookshelf. He’d studied in the archives for decades and knew them better than anyone. He controlled the scribes too, keeping their discoveries to himself. He kept his own enlightenment private as well. He slipped a small scroll out of the bottom of the pile. It was made of lamb’s hide and bound by a leather cord. The scroll had a silky touch to it. He took it to the table and unrolled it.