Children of the Knight (17 page)

Lance looked askance at Arthur. He’d known this day was approaching, but it
still
scared the shit out of him.

Chapter 4

A
FTER
another two weeks of intensive training, Arthur felt his kids were ready for that next phase—recruiting these so-called gang members to their cause. Lance had some knowledge, but others like Enrique and Luis were far better at educating Arthur on gang life and gang think. Both of them had friends in gangs, and both had flirted dangerously with the idea of getting jumped in themselves. Until Arthur came along, anyway. The king was apprised of the dangers and knew he could never lure in all of them.

According to Lance, who had used the wizard-like Internet on his phone—Arthur never failed to marvel at the advancement of man—there was something on the order of forty-one thousand gang members in the County of Angels. All that “might” was available for his cause. If he were to succeed, if his new Camelot might achieve a greatness surpassing the old, he’d need as many of those youth as possible.

Reyna had proven an adept instructor, more condescending than Arthur would have liked, but she accepted his advice that she wouldst gain greater cooperation if she complimented the good more than she criticized the bad in her pupils. Once she took that advice to heart, the boys and girls—a few more had materialized since Reyna joined up—quickly mastered the techniques and were well on their way toward becoming expert archers.

Lance had worked extra hard coaching those who chose the sword as their chief weapon, and these boys had increased in size and strength, as had Lance himself. Some of the bigger lads like Enrique and Luis wielded the two-handed broadsword with deadly accuracy and power. Lance had chosen a sword slightly smaller than Excalibur in size, one which could be gripped with one or both hands, and he could now easily switch back and forth from one to both during a fight as the situation required.

Arthur felt extreme pride in Lance for his improvement, his drive and ability to lead. It seemed to the king that the boy, having gotten his deep-seated pain out into the open, and knowing Arthur would not reject him for his ambiguous nature, seemed to have set his horrific past to the side to focus on the present and the future. That impressed him immensely.

In laying out their plans, Arthur and Lance had gathered together all the boys who had intimate knowledge of gang life and sought their input. Contacting the “shot callers,” as Arthur had been informed the street leaders were called, was relatively easy. Word spread fast on the streets, what with cell phones and texting the communication medium of the day.

The biggest problem, Arthur was told, was that most of those kids carried guns, or could easily get them. Again marveling at the technology, Arthur was given a crash course via the Internet on modern weaponry, especially the most commonly used guns on the streets.

Knowing that his adversaries on Saturday night would possess these weapons, Arthur ordered every archer to be part of the campaign. A sword was no match for a gun, he realized. He, of course, would carry Excalibur, and other swordsmen, Lance included, wouldst flank him to add a greater sense of strength to his presence.

Those guns concerned him, however, for though
he
might be safe with Excalibur, the others were not. Still, despite the all-too-real possibility that one of his kids could be shot and killed, he
had
to move forward. It was his destiny, his purpose, his sole reason for being here. War always brought casualties, he knew, glancing frequently and with trepidation at Lance as the meeting had progressed. Always.

It was now Friday night, and the word had gone out to the streets throughout the city. The mystery tagger requested a meeting with any and all shot callers who should like to attend. Of course, Arthur knew they’d bring others for backup, but then, so would he. The stage was set. Tomorrow night, he and his young eager knights-to-be would either find themselves in an all-out war, or the beginning of something great and mighty for this city and its people.

Anxious and fidgety about the upcoming showdown, Lance asked Arthur to take him back to Eucalyptus Park so he could practice his skating, which he’d been sadly neglecting of late because of all his weapons training.

Happy to spend time with his protégé, Arthur readily agreed. “On one condition,” he added slyly, his brown eyes lit with amusement.

“What?” asked Lance.

“Ye must teach me the use of this skateboard of thine.” He grinned, and Lance laughed happily.

Finally
, after all this intensive training, he’d have time alone with Arthur. Like it used to be. Intense joy filled his body with warmth. “You got it!”

And so they rode Llamrei late into the night, arriving at the park after midnight. Arthur carried Excalibur and Lance his own sword, both sheathed, as a precaution lest trouble accost them on the journey. The trip to the park was uneventful, however, and within its environs everything reflected solitude and peace.

Lance sighed as he looked around him at the shadows and pools of streetlight and the emptiness and the calm. “If only life could be like this all the time, Arthur,” Lance mused, his young voice wistful and melancholic and sounding older than it should. “No war, no adults hurting kids, no drama.”

Arthur sighed heavily as well. “Ah, my dear Lance, that would needs mean no people, either, for with people always cometh great good, and great evil.”

Lance nodded sadly. “Yeah, I know.” Then he flashed that devilish grin. “Come on, Arthur. Your lessons begin now.”

Leaving their swords strapped to Llamrei’s saddle, they slipped into the skate park via Lance’s secret entrance, and the boy leapt forward onto his board in one fluid motion, sailing out into the park and up the nearest ramp, his long hair floating in the breeze like angel wings. As before, Arthur marveled at the boy’s prowess on this very odd invention. Lance flipped and turned and jumped and landed, all with a precision that astonished Arthur. After fifteen minutes of warming up, a calmer Lance skated over to the king. A grin split his beautiful face, which had begun beading with sweat.

“You ready?” the boy asked, holding out the board to his mentor.

Arthur eyed the board uncertainly. “Methinks I shouldst attempt this on a flat surface, Lance. ’Twould not be seemly for thy king to break his arm before we face our destiny.”

Lance laughed with delight. “You got that right. C’mon.”

They exited the skate park and moved back into Eucalyptus Park proper, where there was grass and pathways for Arthur to practice on. They stopped, and Lance handed Arthur the board. The king eyed it a moment before setting it on the ground. “How shouldst I begin?”

Lance placed one foot on the board. “Just put one foot here, right in the middle, and then kick against the ground with the other,” he instructed. “Then when you get some speed up put both feet on the board and keep your balance. Piece of cake.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “Piece of cake?”

Lance shrugged, placing the board in front of Arthur. “Just an expression. Means something’s easy.”

“Oh,” replied Arthur. “Perhaps it should mean something that you make
seem
easy.”

Lance laughed. “C’mon, chicken, get on.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up again, but he didn’t respond. Rather, he placed one booted foot on the board as Lance had instructed and attempted to push forward with his other. He managed one good push before the board flew out from under his foot, and he nearly toppled backward. Lance laughed, and even Llamrei, nibbling at the grass, looked up and whinnied in amusement.

Arthur frowned, his own pride floating to the surface.
If a boy can do this
, he told himself….

Approaching the board a second time, he again placed his left foot firmly in the middle, adjusted his center of gravity, and began kicking at the ground with his right foot, feeling, he thought, rather like a horse. But the board went forward and he with it. This time he kept firm pressure on the board with his foot so ’twould not escape him, and he proceeded steadily along the winding pathway.

Lance clapped with delight. “You’re doing it, Arthur! Now ride it, man.”

Arthur raised his kicking foot carefully and planted it firmly behind the other, and did not tumble off. The board, with him on it, moved steadily forward, not with the rapidity Lance could achieve, but forward motion nonetheless.

“Yes!” Lance shouted and then quickly covered his mouth with his hand for fear of drawing attention from the surrounding apartments.

Arthur then made an amateur’s mistake. He turned his head to acknowledge Lance’s “Yes” and promptly lost his balance. The board flew out from under him, and he toppled backward, landing hard on the grass rising upward from the path. The air whooshed out of his lungs as he made impact, and he lay dazed and confused for a few moments.

Lance instantly appeared in his field of vision, looking concerned. “You okay, Arthur? I shoulda tole you not to turn your head.”

Arthur gazed up at the boy and chuckled. “I doth be fine, my boy,” he said, raising himself to his elbows. “Growing up, I fell from many a horse, Lance, and that beeth a fine art I learnt quite well.”

Lance joined in the laughter. “You did look pretty funny.”

“Yes, you did,” said an unexpected voice from behind Lance.

He whirled in fright and then gasped. “Ms. McMullen!”

Jenny stood directly behind the boy, clad in jeans and a light jacket, her blonde hair loose about her shoulders, her expression wary. “I was told you hang out here, Lance.”

“What you be doin’ here, Ms. McMullen? It ain’t safe.”

Jenny eyed the boy, giving his tunic and pants the once over, glanced down at Arthur sprawled on the grass, then back at Lance. “I just drove over tonight on a hunch. I’ve been worried about you, Lance. You haven’t been to school.”

Embarrassed, Arthur stretched out a hand, and Lance clasped it, helping pull the man to his feet. Brushing grass off his hauberk, Arthur eyed Jenny awkwardly. The two adults sized each other up.

“Where doth be thy manners, Lance?” Arthur said, recovering his aplomb as best he could. He had trouble taking his eyes off Jenny.

“Huh?” replied Lance, nervously pushing his sweat-drenched hair from his face. “Oh, sorry. This is Ms. McMullen, the teacher I tole you about. This be King Arthur. And I be his First Knight.”

“I doth be honored to meet thee, Lady McMullen,” Arthur said smoothly and with great respectfulness.

Jenny merely nodded, glanced at Lance, but made no move to shake Arthur’s hand or otherwise engage him. “As soon as I saw you on the news, I knew that’s why Lance was asking me all those questions. But I still haven’t figured out what you’re up to.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose enquiringly. “Up to?”

“He ain’t up to anything, Ms. McMullen,” Lance interjected indignantly, “’cept helping kids.”

Jenny ignored Lance completely, her gaze locked on Arthur’s face, scrutinizing it, searching the man’s eyes for a glimpse of his soul. “Is it for the publicity? Is that why you’re pretending to be King Arthur?”

“Pretending?” Arthur replied in surprise.

Jenny shook her head with amazement. “I’m not fourteen years old, mister, no offense Lance, and I don’t fool easily. You don’t expect me to believe you’re really King Arthur, do you?”

“Why not?”

Jenny’s gaze never wavered. “Because King Arthur, if he
was
real, died centuries ago.” There was something almost hypnotic about this man, she thought, hoping her attraction wasn’t obvious on her face.

Arthur smiled warmly, gazing at Jenny in wonder.
An extraordinary woman
, he thought,
a woman of spirit
. “Lance hath told me of thy fascination with my past deeds. I can assure you my present ones beeth of the same ilk.”

Jenny laughed nervously. “What, starting a new Round Table or something?”

Arthur nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “Precisely, save this time I shalt make it permanent.”

His intense gaze caused Jenny to blush and quickly glance at Lance, who stood beside this man eager and young and very vulnerable. The sight of him strengthened her resolve. “I warn you, if anything happens to Lance….”

Arthur gently placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Be assured, milady, Lance shalt come to no harm.”

Jenny noted the boy’s obvious hero worship of this man, and that scared her even more. What if he was some kind of pervert or… worse? Arthur’s intense gaze began to make her squirm with discomfort.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stare at me like that,” she finally said as firmly as her nervousness allowed.

Arthur glanced down. “My sincerest apologies, milady. It just be that thou doth bring to mind memories of my beloved Guinevere, both in beauty and in spirit. I didst truly never expect to gaze upon one such as her again.”

Lance gazed nervously from Arthur to Jenny and back again. He’d seen that look in lots of guys when it came to girls. Normally he didn’t care, but now he had a really bad feeling chewing away at the pit of his stomach, almost making him feel nauseous.