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

by Craig Halloran

  Totem shuffled backward. He stomped his boots on the deck, threw his head back, and let out a wild shriek. The sea savages jumped up on their benches with spears in hand and pounded the shafts on their seats.

  “Huntah! Huntah! Huntah! Huntah!” they chanted. The same fully aroused cry went up from the other galley. “Huntah! Huntah! Huntah!”

  Totem stopped screaming and lifted his sword in the air. “We accept the Elder gift!”

  31

  After three more days of sailing, they made it to King’s Bay without incident. King’s Bay was the water north of King’s Foot on the west shoreline. They docked the ship at one of the major port cities that ran along the leagues of coastland hugging the huge bay. They had no issues docking the Sea Talon though many eyes widened upon its arrival. Since they didn’t bear the banners of the king’s enemies in Tiotan and Bolg and paid the port fees, they had no issues with the king’s port authority. Only those who didn’t behave themselves in Kingsland had problems.

  Abraham couldn’t have been happier to be on land again. As a matter of fact, he got rooms for everyone at the seaside city called Swain. It was very much like the pictures he’d seen of Mediterranean cities that crowded the southern Greek and European shores. The buildings were made from big blocks of whitewashed stone. The rooftops were colorful. Seabirds squawked in the air and from lofty perches on the roofing, made from clay tiles.

  The food and wine was good, and the people, who wore colorful, loose-fitting shirts, trousers, or robes, were friendly. He filled himself with sweet wine and food and retired alone in his room for the evening. It was a quaint room, ten feet by ten feet, with a bed, strongbox, and a long table against the wall with two candles on the tabletop beside an open window.

  With a lot on his mind, he stared out his small cottage window overlooking the docks. Early evening had come, and the massive docks were a hive of activity. Sailors and soldiers were there in full armor. More big ships, galleons, brigandines, and galleys were there. Some were merchant ships, and the others were from the king’s war fleet. Abraham didn’t know how he understood all of that, but he did. All of it was vaguely familiar to him. The king’s banners flapped from posts in the streets and on the top masts of the ships. One huge flag was mounted a hundred feet high on a small island of its own, like a memorial, between the docks. He couldn’t take his eyes off the silky banner waving in the winds.

  The king’s banner was a flat golden lion head wearing a crown with six horns, with the white feathery wings of a bird for ears, on a royal-blue background. The crown on the lion’s head brought back childhood memories. Abraham thought of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz and King Moonracer from the Island of Misfit Toys.

  This can’t be real.

  The seafaring citizens delighted themselves at the night festivals and ceremonies of lights going on. Colorful paper lanterns fueled by candlelight floated into the sky as in a Chinese festival. The people were a healthy mix of men and women, not so much different from home. It might as well have been a regatta at Three Rivers back in Pittsburgh but without the sternwheelers. Exhausted, he closed his shutters, took off his gear, and lay down in the bed. As soon as his head hit the down-filled pillow, he was fast asleep.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Abraham opened his eyes. One eye was buried in his pillow. Bright daylight shone through the cracks of the shutters and onto his face. The bustling of commerce could be heard on the outside docks. The seabirds were squawking. The waves crashed against the shoreline and rattled the docks. That was the first night he’d slept through. No dreams. No disturbances. That would have been great, except for one thing. He was still in Titanuus. He rolled up and put his bare feet on the floor.

  “Come in.”

  Sticks entered the room with a bundle of clothes. She closed the door behind herself. “You should have locked your door.”

  “I didn’t realize it had a lock.” He stretched his arms high and yawned. His body was alert and ready to go. “I slept like a baby. Must have been the wine.”

  “Swain is well-known for being a great place for rest despite the heavy activity. They say that the King’s Bay is blessed. The sea wind caresses us all like babies.”

  “So I take it that you slept well too?”

  She unfolded a cotton shirt, flapped it once in the air, and tossed it to him. “I don’t sleep as well alone as I do with you.”

  “Sorry. I just needed a night to myself.” He slid the shirt on then caught the clean trousers she threw at him. “We aren’t engaged or anything, are we?”

  She cocked her head. “Engaged? No. People like us don’t get engaged. That’s for royalty. We aren’t royalty.”

  He stood up and slipped into his trousers. He grabbed his belt, which hung from the bedpost, and fastened it through the loops. He wondered when belt loops had been invented. He stuck his finger through the loops. “Do all pants have these?”

  “No, you had a tailor sew them in. Your preference.”

  He rubbed his jaw. Interesting.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Sticks opened the door. Dominga entered. The petite black woman with very pretty eyes carried in a bowl of water and set it on the table. She had a towel around her neck and a straight razor in her free hand. She smiled at him. “Are you ready for your shave, Captain?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’ll need to take that shirt off,” she said.

  “But I just put it on.”

  Dominga whispered in Sticks’s ear. The expressionless Sticks lifted a brow.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We need to get you cleaned up.” Sticks helped him out of his shirt.

  “Why the sudden change?” he said.

  She tossed the shirt onto the bed and said, “Because the King’s Guardians have arrived.”

  32

  From his window, Abraham could see knights in shining armor riding on horseback in the streets. He counted twenty in all, in columns of two. Each of them wore a full suit of glistening full-plate armor. Their full helmets were fashioned like lion faces, each with a plume of lion hair at the top. The horses moved at a slow trot as they pranced down the stone road. They carried the banner of the king on a flagpole in the front and in the back.

  Abraham swallowed. The King’s Guardians were a formidable group who rode tall in the saddles and carried an air of superiority about them. The citizens that stood in the streets quickly hustled out of the oncoming horses’ pathway. Some of them cheered the knights and applauded, but not all.

  A group of miscreants dashed into the streets with their hands loaded up with rotting food and fish. The gangly group started hurling the waste at the knights. The filthy muck splattered on the King’s Guardians’ shiny armor.

  The rabble-rousers chanted, “Death to the king! Death to the king!”

  The horses came to a halt. The lead knights’ helmets turned toward the rank assailants. The miscreants hurled more foul scraps and shouted curses. The knights in the front row spurred their white horses, and the gallant beasts charged forward.

  The miscreants couldn’t hide their shock-filled faces. A raw-boned man beat his chest and screamed at the charging knights. The rest of them scrambled away.

  The first knight trampled the miscreant standing in his path. The second knight ran down another man. The merciless guardians chased down and trampled four more troublesome people though the streets and returned to their ranks. Not one citizen stood within fifty feet of the knights after that.

  Crammed in the window beside Abraham, Dominga said, “That’s what those dirty little lawbreakers get.”

  “The King’s Guardians don’t take any crap from anybody, do they?” Abraham said.

  “No. An assault on his men is an assault on the crown itself,” Sticks said.

  The train of knights started riding out of town.

  “Dominga, get him shaved. We don’t want to keep the King’s Guardians waiting.”

  Dominga gave Abraham a
quick shave and quietly departed, leaving him in the room alone with Sticks.

  With an arched brow, he said, “So I’m supposed to meet up with the King’s Guardians, and they escort me to him.”

  “Yes, but with a great deal more discretion.” She ran her fingers over his smooth face with a very soft touch. “The arrival of the King’s Guardians is the way the king is letting you know that he knows you are here.”

  “How could he know that?”

  “The king has eyes and ears everywhere. We are a part of that body. The moment we docked, I’m certain a rider or a pigeon delivered the message.”

  “I didn’t think anyone knew who we were,” he said.

  “The king’s allies do. I’d assume some of the king’s enemies, too. Either way, the king is expecting you. May the king find favor with you, Ruger Slade.” She gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek and moved away.

  He grabbed her hands. “Wait, aren’t you coming?”

  “There is a different path for the rest of us. If all works out, we’ll meet you back at the Stronghold, the same as we always do. If not, it’s been a pleasure serving the crown with you.” She pulled free of his grip. “Goodbye.”

  Like a ghost, Sticks vanished on the other side of the door. Abraham sat quietly on his bed, scratching his head. What in the world is going on now? Sticks was the only person he could talk to. Now, she was gone. He jumped up and opened the door to see no sign of anyone in the hallway. He went back into the room, buckled on his sword, slung Jake’s pack over his shoulders, and went down the steps to the main tavern floor. He expected to see the Henchmen and the Red Tunics having breakfast. Instead, the tavern was empty of any occupants—no serving girls at the tables and no bartender behind the bar. It was like an abandoned saloon in a ghost town but without all the dust.

  Abraham made his way down the staircase. The boards groaned underneath his feet. He stopped at the bottom of the steps on the main floor. His nostrils flared. The smell of food cooking in the kitchen wafted through the room, but he still saw no sign of anyone. He wandered into the middle of the room.

  Eyes narrowed, he said, “Hello?” The nape hairs on his neck rose. His hand fell to his pommel. He turned back toward the staircase.

  Underneath the staircase was a small round table he had missed. A man was sitting in the chair behind the table with a long sword lying on top of it. He wore a traveling cloak with a silk collar. Black leather gloves covered his hands. He had the striking features of a nobleman, feathery black hair and a clean shave, but a white scar ran from his bottom lip to his chin. He had a scowl on his face.

  “Feeling edgy, Ruger?” the man asked. He shoved the table back and stood. The man was lean, as tall as Abraham, and wearing a coat of blackened chain mail underneath his cloak. He picked up his long sword. The weapon was as well crafted as Black Bane. A lion head was fashioned on the pommel. He picked up his sword and walked toward Abraham, cutting the weapon’s tip across the grime-stained planks of the floor. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

  33

  “Go ahead, Ruger,” the man said. “Slide out that steel and see what happens. There’s nothing I’d rather do than put your head on my father’s platter.”

  Abraham’s fingertips needled the handle of Black Bane. The contempt in the man’s dark eyes clearly showed that they knew each other. He just needed a name. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t retrieve it.

  He stalled. “I think we both know that if I drew, not only would I not be dead, but you would be dead.”

  “Puh,” the man said. With a fine swordsman’s grace, he slid his sword into his scabbard. “Father will have your head soon enough. Let’s go.”

  Father. The man had said it twice. That implied he was King Hector’s son. A lightbulb memory moment flashed in his mind. This man was King Hector’s son, Lewis. Lewis had a long history with the Henchmen too. He hated them. He hated everyone who was not royalty. A new tide of information flowed though Abraham’s brain. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He staggered to the bar as a migraine came on.

  “What is the matter, goat lover? Are you having a spasm? That’s what happens when you are in the presence of greatness,” Lewis said.

  With spots flashing in his eyes, he said, “I’m fine. But apparently, you aren’t doing so well if the king sent you to greet me. What did you do this time, Lewis? Get caught screwing in the stables?”

  Lewis sneered. “Watch your tongue, dog. Besides, I’d never be caught dead with some barefoot milkmaid like you.”

  “I wasn’t talking about a milkmaid. What I was talking about has hooves, not toes.”

  Lewis slapped his hand hard on Abraham’s shoulder. “Oh, Ruger,” he said mirthfully, “the time will soon come when I’ll see you gutted open or hanged. We’ll see what clever words you have to say then. But in the meantime, you should watch your words, Henchman.” He patted Ruger’s face with his hand. “Come on, now. Let’s get on the journey. I can’t wait to hear all the details of your latest plunder.”

  Thanks to the new flood of memories, he was able to put more pieces of the strange world together. Lewis was one of King Hector’s children. He was also the commander of the King’s Guardians. He wouldn’t be in that role if he wasn’t worthy. Lewis was a knight with great expertise, as good as any.

  Lewis also detested anyone not of royal blood. That was why no commoners were in the room. That was why the King’s Guardians didn’t hesitate to trample unruly peasants either. He had a very cavalier attitude, and so did his men. That was a big reason that he hated the Henchmen. It was a big reason that everyone who wasn’t royal hated him. He was a grade-A spoiled jerk, but he could back it up.

  Abraham stood up straight, looked him in the eyes, and said, “Lead the way, Guardian Commander.”

  Lewis snorted. He led them through the back, where two white stallions waited. The horses had the King’s Brand on their left hindquarters. It was the type of crown that Abraham had. They climbed into the saddle and rode out of town. This was customarily what Ruger Slade did at the end of all his missions. At some point, he’d be escorted back to the king’s castle, known as the House of Steel.

  The show of the King’s Guardians served as a distraction. The knights routinely made their rounds to the cities in Kingsland. No one knew when they were coming or going. Sometimes they escorted the Henchmen, and sometimes it was someone else. The king could send anyone he wanted—clerics, mages, spies, or merchants. One way or the other, once the Henchmen made it back to Kingsland, the King would know they were there. Only beyond his borders did he have no control.

  In Kingsland, all roads led to the House of Steel. The road they were on had ankle-deep wagon ruts in some places. The sprawling countryside was rich in tall grasses and wildflowers that spanned as far as the eye could see. Rich farmland and cottages were spread throughout the territory. After an hour of riding out of town on a stifling day, they caught up with the King’s Guardians and continued to ride behind them.

  After a few more hours, Lewis—dabbing his forehead with a satin handkerchief—broke his silence. “Your mission was to return with several frights, and you didn’t return with any.” He huffed a laugh. “And now, my father’s patience has run out. This latest failure will be catastrophic for you and your hapless men. Frankly, I’m glad to see it over with. I never understood why my father chose a rogue like you to begin with.”

  Abraham didn’t reply.

  “That’s it. No clever remarks,” Lewis added. “Did a cat catch your twisted tongue?”

  Abraham thumbed the sweat from his brow and said, “I’ll tell the king I did my best. If he doesn’t like it, I guess I’ll get what’s coming to me.”

  “You’ll get the guillotine. That’s what you’ll get. All of you!” Lewis tossed his head back in laughter. “Oh, how I hope to see it.”

  “If you think that you could do so much better, then why didn’t the king send you to retrieve the frights?”

&nbs
p; “You know full well that I have asked. My knights are more than qualified to handle these ridiculous missions.” Lewis removed a glove and fanned himself. “What was the mission before last that became such a debacle?” His dark eyes brightened. “Ah, I remember. You were supposed to destroy a supply bridge in Tiotan, which you successfully did. But it was the wrong bridge, wasn’t it?”

  Abraham wasn’t certain, but the words rang true.

  Lewis went on. “And then there was a simple matter of retrieving the Ozam Tablets in the Dorcha territory. What happened there? Hmm? You brought them back in pieces and lost parts of them. Those were priceless artifacts. They contained historical information that was vital to the restoration of the crown. And what about the Shield of Puran? Consumed by a fire worm.”

  Abraham shifted in his saddle. The truth behind Lewis’s sneering words stung. His mind started trying to put pieces of the memories together. He needed to talk to Sticks about what had happened on those missions. That was when he remembered something. His chest tightened. Oh no. Until he met with the king, all the Henchmen would be imprisoned.

  34

  Baracha was the name of the prison camp where the Henchmen were taken. It was a high-walled facility made from tremendous stones. Shaped like a hexagon, the Baracha wall stood fifty feet high and had only one entrance, a small iron portcullis. The only way out was either through that portcullis, or over the wall, which was heavily guarded. Baracha meant “place of misery” in the old language.

  Sticks crinkled her nose as she fanned flies away from her face. The prisoners—sweaty and grimy—carried an unavoidable stink. The high walls of the Baracha kept the wind out, making it worse. The camp was one hundred yards from wall to wall. A lot of prisoners walked the yard. It was crowded, but the Henchmen clung together, keeping their backs to the wall. The men made a wall around the women, but the catcalls hadn’t stopped since they entered.