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Children of the Knight

Page 14

by Michael J. Bowler


  Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?

  He shook his head, chest tightening, breath catching in his throat. No, stop going there, Jack. Your heart wants something it can’t have…. His eyes drifted toward Lance, basking beneath Arthur’s pride and obvious love, marveling again at the boy’s almost ethereal beauty, wishing someone would show that much pride in him for once. Jealousy slipped a noose around his heart and tugged hard.

  When they finally arrived back at The Hub, Mark lay dozing with little Chris wrapped in his arms. As soon as Arthur stepped into the chamber, Mark’s blue eyes popped opened, his heart thumping wildly with excitement and relief. He leapt to his feet and said to Chris excitedly, “Hey, Chris, Arthur’s back!”

  The little boy instantly awoke and turned his sleepy head. Arthur bent down and winked at the boy, who shook off his slumber and leapt from Mark’s arms to throw himself at Arthur, flinging his arms around the man’s neck and squeezing for all he was worth. “Oh, sire,” he gushed, “I’m so happy you’re back!” Arthur stood, holding the small boy in the crook of his arm.

  Mark straightened his rumpled tunic and tried to fix his mussed mop of hair as he too, stepped forward. “Me too, Arthur.”

  Those penetrating eyes locked onto the man, but Arthur merely smiled, patted Mark on the shoulder, and said, “All was a success, Mark and Chris. Tomorrow we shalt have new recruits to instruct and train.”

  Mark nodded, unable to drop his gaze from Arthur’s exuberant face. Lance noted the intent look with uncertainty. Jack noticed it too. Frowning, he stepped toward Mark, his height cutting off the boy’s view of Arthur. “Hey, I’m back too. Remember me?”

  Mark turned those huge blue eyes up to Jack’s serious face and gave him a perfunctory hug, his mind swirling with confusion. “Oh yeah, I figured you’d be okay, Jacky. You’re too buff to get hurt.”

  Jack frowned, his heart tightening. “But I’m not bulletproof like Arthur.”

  At the king’s name, Mark immediately glanced past Jack’s shoulder to observe Arthur deposit Chris back onto the ground. He pulled away from Jack, leaving a painful void within the older boy’s chest.

  “Lads, we must all needs rest, for it is late into the night and the morrow shalt bring the next stage of our crusade,” the king announced. Then he turned to Lance. “Come, Lance, let us get armor and weapons stowed and everyone down for the night.”

  Lance nodded as Arthur moved off to assist his warriors with removal of their armor and the reracking of their weapons. He stepped up and high-fived Jack. “Good job out there, man.”

  Jack grinned despite the tightness around his heart. “You too, man. I thought that dude would shit his pants when you called him a pussy.”

  Lance laughed and earned another high five. Then he turned to Mark. “Everything okay here, Mark?”

  Mark’s forlorn gaze rested on Arthur across the chamber, and he turned back quickly. In truth, he’d hated being left behind but would never tell Arthur that. “Oh yeah, you know, babysitting. Sounds like you guys had all the fun.”

  Lance nodded. “It was cool. ’Course Jack was the buffest guy out there, made that gangbanger look skinny.” He punched Jack on the shoulder, noting with awe how solid the other boy was—like a wall.

  For some reason, the compliment and Lance’s admiring look caused Jack to actually turn red, not something he normally did.

  Mark eyed the two of them questioningly, wondering for a moment if something might be going on he didn’t know about. Would it bother him if there were? In that split second, as Jack and Lance nervously grinned at one another, Mark realized he wasn’t sure.

  Jack broke eye contact with Lance and tossed Mark a knowing look. “Mark likes my bod, don’t ya?” He winked, but Mark just nodded absently, his gaze drifting back to Arthur, who was helping Lavern off with his armor.

  Lance noted the look in Mark’s sad eyes and, and while he didn’t understand it, he still got a thick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then Jack turned to Lance with a grin. “You wanna get buffer, Lance, I’ll show ya how to work out and stuff.”

  Lance nodded, suddenly feeling squirmy and uneasy being so close to them. “Sure, that’d be great. Listen, uh, we’d better get all our stuff put up.”

  Then he began unstrapping his chain mail as he hurried anxiously across to the wooden clothing racks. Jack eyed Mark once again, noted the faraway look in his friend’s eyes, and asked, “You okay, Marky Mark?” That had early on become Jack’s pet name for Mark, despite the younger teen’s very nonmuscular physique.

  The blond boy nodded, locks of unkempt hair drifting across his forehead, those pools of blue filling slowly with gloom. “Yeah. Just tired from, you know, the drug shit. See ya in the morning, Jacky.”

  He started to turn away.

  “Hey.” Jack stopped him. “Could you, uh, well could you give me a hand getting all this stuff off?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

  Mark smiled warmly, looking like the Mark of old, the one before Arthur. “Sure.” And the two set about removing Jack’s various layers of protection.

  THE next day, residual excitement from the night before percolated through the tunnels as everyone prepared for the new arrivals. Enrique and Luis searched for the smallest tunics they could find to better accentuate their muscles in preparation for Reyna’s arrival. Both knew they couldn’t compete with Esteban’s buff body, but they were confident they could charm her the way they had a host of other females.

  Lance, as always, slept with Chris beside him and dutifully got the youngster bathed and fed as soon as they awoke. The dripping water was continuously gathered into large tubs and then heated by a charcoal fire pit beneath them. Arthur and Lance had bought a supply of charcoal for the purpose, as well as water-purifying tablets to clean the water and kill germs, and it worked sufficiently well to avoid a freezing cold bathing experience. Boys old enough to shave, like Jack, could use these same tubs for that purpose too. Lance usually just “bird bathed” because he’d gotten accustomed to doing that on the streets, and he hated being naked in front of anyone, anyway.

  Mark and Jack had slept side by side, but to Jack’s dismay Mark had made no move to even cuddle with him. Out on the street, when they’d had to share doorways or cardboard boxes, they’d always cuddled together for warmth. He missed that closeness, that most basic level of human intimacy. Mark seemed to be drifting away from him, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. That realization weighed heavily upon Jack and slowly, but surely, began to drown him in despair.

  Reyna blew in like a whirlwind, decked out in her slickest pants and a very stylish tunic she’d had altered so that it almost put Arthur’s to shame in its ostentation. As always, she carried her bow and quiver of arrows. “Don’t leave home without ’em,” she always said. Enrique and Luis turned on the charm immediately, but she coolly rebuffed them as usual.

  Lance had sent out their location to Esteban via text message, and the gang leader was to relay the information to whomever else wished to come. By midday, the chamber swelled with children, most of Arthur’s original group and another hundred or so gang members. Lance and Jack and Mark and Reyna and Lavern stood around the throne with their weapons in hand just in case any of the newcomers tried to take a shot at Arthur. Esteban had been told that no guns were allowed, but since when did gangsters do what they were told? Lance knew Arthur had Excalibur in hand, but he and the others felt more secure standing with him, creating a visual show of force.

  Esteban had sauntered in wearing jeans and a very tight wifebeater that showed off his solid physique for Reyna’s benefit. She noticed—how could she not? God, he was hot! But as always, she played it cool and aloof and disdainful. He gazed up at her and smirked, flexing his chest a little for effect, but she chuckled in that haughty way of hers and looked at Lance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

  Lance, however, was impressed with the older teen’s intimidating muscles, but made sure not to show it i
n front of him.

  Arthur invited all to sit wherever they could so he could tell them about himself and their crusade. He shared a little about how he’d pulled Excalibur from the stone, about his ancient kingdom of Camelot, and its ultimate downfall.

  “I was but sixteen when crowned king,” Arthur went on in response to a question, “and not experienced in the ways of women. A beautiful lady named Morgause, scheming to gain a hold on my throne, didst use her witchery to seduce me.”

  Esteban fidgeted a bit. All this history kind of felt like school, and he hated school. He wanted to cut to the chase. “You said all this destroyed yer knights and shit. How?”

  If Arthur was offended by the cuss word, he didn’t show it. “Morgause conceived a son, Mordred, and poisoned his mind against me,” the king recalled sadly.

  While Esteban may have been bored, Lance felt himself riveted to the tale, especially at the mention of a son.

  “Upon attainment of manhood, Mordred sought to usurp my throne. Ultimately, it was the adulterous affair betwixt my queen and my best friend that didst give Mordred his final victory, for in my sense of justice I was forced to wage war upon them all.”

  Lance held his breath in shock. Arthur with a son? Who’d rebelled against him? He finally found his voice. “You never told me this, Arthur. What happened to your son?”

  Arthur turned to meet the boy’s wide-eyed gaze. “Alas, Lance, he betrayed me, tried to take my life… and I killed him.”

  Lance’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine the gentle Arthur killing his own son. The revelation dazed him into silence, while all the assembled digested the implications of Arthur’s story. Esteban nodded approvingly, however, because that’s exactly what he’d have done. Maybe this Arthur guy could teach him something after all.

  Arthur stood, his flowing cloak swinging down around his boots, and announced, “Tomorrow, I shalt further lay out my plans for our campaign, but for now we shalt have weapons training.”

  The new guys whooped and hollered with excitement, but Arthur stared them back into silence. When all had settled down, he said, “For those who are new to us, Reyna doth be the chief instructor for archery, and Lance for swordsmanship.” He indicated Lance, who stood and stepped to the man’s side, a trifle nervously. Those gang guys looked mean as shit!

  Jaime snorted, and Esteban laughed. “Him?” he said derisively. “He don’t look big enough to do much damage.” The homies laughed.

  Lance fought back a blush of embarrassment as Arthur took a step closer. “When all of thee are knighted, Lance shalt be designated First Knight, Esteban. This doth mean he shalt command in my stead. Doth that pose a problem for thee?”

  Esteban just shrugged, exchanging an amused smirk with Jaime. “I don’ know, man. He did okay last night, but he had all youse for backup. To me, he looks kinda girly to be in charge.”

  Darnell and the other gangsters laughed even louder, but none of Arthur’s original group joined them.

  Arthur glanced over at Lance silently, waiting for the boy to act. Fighting down his panic—that kid was buff as hell, after all—Lance unsheathed his sword and held it tightly. He released the breath he’d been holding. “Grab any sword you like, and we’ll see if I fight ‘girly’.”

  Now the gangsters erupted with excitement. Fighting was what they knew and loved. Jaime slapped Esteban on the back. “Show ’im what ya got, dawg!”

  Esteban eyed Lance appraisingly, knowing he couldn’t back down, but wondering if he hadn’t stepped in it by opening his mouth. Too late now. “You got it,” he said and got to his feet, sauntered over to the weapons rack, and casually perused the armaments.

  There was silence as he hefted several large swords, testing their weight and the feel of each hilt in his grip. Everyone watched with breathless anticipation. Lance glanced nervously at Reyna, and she blew him a kiss, which made him smile.

  Esteban turned and saw the gesture, and it annoyed him. Reyna turned to look his way and tossed him a mocking smirk. That irritated Esteban even more. This hot chick thought a fucking little pretty boy could whoop his ass? Fuck that! He snatched a heavy, sturdy, two-handed broadsword, gripped it tautly, the muscles of his thick forearms rippling with power, and stepped to the center of the crowd.

  Everyone pressed back as far as they could, leaving a center circle for the two combatants. Lance stepped carefully down from the platform to face off against the much larger, much stronger and intimidating Esteban. “Sure you don’t want any armor for protection?” Lance asked sincerely, noting the boy’s exposed, and really buff, arms.

  But Esteban took that as an insult and bristled with indignation. “I got more armor in these muscles, kid, than you could ever wear! Let’s go at it.”

  The two boys circled one another like cats, each sizing up the other’s strengths and weaknesses, each looking for an opening to strike. Esteban swung first, and hard, hoping to use his sheer might to knock the sword out of Lance’s grip or even drive the smaller boy to the ground. But Lance easily danced to one side. The weight of Esteban’s sword threw him forward. He stumbled and nearly lost his balance.

  Cursing, he recovered his footing and turned just as Lance swung downward with his weapon. Esteban raised his sword in time to block the blow, but the impact of iron against iron sent thrumming vibrations from his hands all the way up his arms.

  Shit, the kid was stronger than he looked!

  Esteban stumbled back and then used all his strength to push against Lance, causing the smaller boy to fall back several feet. Lance almost lost his footing, but weeks of training with Arthur paid off. Esteban took a wild swing at Lance. The smaller boy easily ducked, and the blade sailed harmlessly over his head. Seizing the advantage, Lance pushed forward and rammed his shoulder into Esteban’s rock-hard chest, causing the bigger boy to stagger backward, pinwheeling with his arms, and almost losing his grip on the enormous sword.

  Each time Lance scored a victory, the original group cheered. Each time Esteban gained the advantage, the gangsters whooped. Arthur watched this with a calm he didn’t feel. These gang members were no strangers to killing. Violence was how they’d grown up. He knew Esteban, or any of these kids, would likely kill Lance or one of the others without hesitation. The outcome of this one-on-one fight might make or break his entire crusade, he realized, as he said a silent prayer for Lance’s deliverance.

  Esteban screamed and charged Lance, swinging downward as hard as he could with his sword. This time the smaller boy did not dance away, but deftly swung his sword up and around to easily deflect the powerful blow. Esteban’s blade struck the concrete floor, missing Lance completely and setting his rippling forearms afire with thrumming pain.

  By now, Lance was sweating, but not as much as Esteban, he was pleased to note. Despite his circlet, sweaty hair dangled before his tight, focused face, drifting in and out of his field of vision. He ignored it.

  The combatants circled one another again, but neither made a move.

  Then Esteban swung, and Lance easily parried. Esteban swung again, harder this time. And again Lance parried, deflecting the blade harmlessly. Again and again Esteban swung his sword hard, thinking that sheer might would win the day. Accustomed to winning by strength alone, he underestimated the smaller boy. What Lance lacked in physical size, he more than made up in technique, and easily and calmly parried Esteban’s every thrust, every swing, and every lunge.

  Dripping with sweat, his wifebeater soaked through, Esteban finally lost his cool. His muscles were tired, and he wanted to end this shit now! Eyes bulging, mouth twisted with rage, he ran straight at Lance, blade pointing out, thinking the boy would turn and run.

  Lance just smirked, ducked under the blade, and swung the flat of his own sword against Esteban’s shin, causing the bigger boy to cry out in pain, stumble, and crash hard to the concrete. He lost his slippery grip, and the broadsword clattered along the ground to land at Reyna’s feet. Exhausted as he was, his shin throbbing w
ith pain, Esteban rolled to try and regain his feet—and found the point of Lance’s sword at his throat.

  Lance breathed heavily, but Esteban panted like a dog after a two-mile run. The two boys gazed intently at one another. Just as with Reyna, Lance knew this to be make-or-break time for him. His gaze never wavered.

  Finally, after several tense, silent seconds, Esteban broke eye contact and looked away. “You win,” he mumbled in humiliation. He couldn’t help glancing up at Reyna, but instead of that mocking grin he saw a look of approval in her eyes.

  Lance pulled back his sword. “Still think I’m girly?”

  Esteban shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat all over the ground. “No.”

  Lance turned and fixed a challenging gaze upon the other gang members. “Anybody else wanna take me on?”

  One by one, they shook their heads and looked away, embarrassed and hating that feeling. Shit, they could all shoot a gun, but one-on-one fighting like that? No way!

  Lance swept his fiery green eyes over the assemblage and settled on the panting Esteban. “Got any problem with me being First Knight?”

  Esteban turned his gaze in amazement up at the smaller boy who’d just kicked his ass in front of his homies. “Anybody who fights like you—hell, no!”

  Lance grinned and extended a hand. Esteban flicked his gaze over to Jaime and the other homeboys, hoping he wouldn’t see that he’d fallen in their eyes. But they nodded to him in understanding, and agreement, so he turned to look at Lance, and stuck out his hand.

  Lance pulled the bigger boy easily to his feet, and Esteban limped to a chair to massage his bruised shin.

  Darnell shook his head in amazement. “You gonna teach us all to fight like that?” he asked Lance.

  The smaller boy nodded. “Starting right now.”

  And so it came to pass that Lance earned the respect of the gang members in the only true way they understood, through strength and force.

  Arthur clapped Lance solidly on the shoulder and smiled in approval. No words were needed. Mark and Jack grinned at Lance, and even Reyna flashed him a thumbs-up sign, which made him drop his eyes and grin foolishly.

 

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