The youthful king, too, was momentarily rendered speechless. Such forward and provocative behavior from young women was still very unsettling for him. He cleared his throat. “Doth I take thy meaning, Lady Reyna, that thou wisheth to join us?”
Reyna chuckled wryly. “Don’t know about the ‘Lady’ part, but yeah. I got a few months to kill while my parents party in Europe, so why not? Might be fun.”
Arthur raised both eyebrows at her response and then turned to Lance. The boy met his gaze, understood, and looked out over the heads of the group to lock eyes with Reyna. Don’t blush, fool!
“Does this mean you’re willing to take orders from a boy younger and prettier than you?” he asked, his voice strong and clear, his posture upright and commanding.
This time there was no laughter. The others knew Lance was not joking around. For her part, Reyna gazed long and hard into the boy’s eyes, but Lance never broke eye contact, and that impressed her. She smiled.
“Yeah, that’s what it means.” And then she looked down, feeling something ripple through her that she seldom felt, and hated when she did—embarrassment.
Lance nodded and turned to Arthur. “Sire, if it please you, I’d like to make Reyna head archery instructor so I can focus more on the swordplay.”
Arthur nodded, pleased at Lance’s new level of confidence. “Agreed.” He turned to Reyna. “Everyone, welcome our new archer, Reyna.”
Thunderous applause erupted from the assemblage, along with a few whistles and catcalls, which were not lost on Arthur. He frowned, recalling how his own beloved Guinevere had led to the downfall of Camelot. He prayed Reyna would not drive a wedge between him and his knights-to-be.
Enrique quickly shoved Luis aside to open up a space between them. “Move over, fool,” he whispered and then waved at Reyna. “You can sit here, we got room.”
She eyed both boys with disdain and smirked. “I’ll stand, thank you.”
Arthur had more business to conduct with his kids, but he felt it might be advisable to learn more about this mysterious girl. “Lady Reyna—and yes, a knight must always address any lady as ‘Lady’—it doth be of the code of chivalry—tell us thy story. How comest here to us?”
Reyna raised her well-groomed eyebrows and chuckled. “I love the way you talk. It’s so cool. Anyway, not much on me. I’m almost seventeen. My parents are rich fat cats who live out in Porter Ranch. They pretty much buy me whatever I want long as I don’t, you know, talk with them too much.” She laughed bitterly. “God forbid they’d wanna spend time with me. Far too busy, my folks, impressing the rich white people because they’re rich Latinos with just as much money. It’s all… whatever, to me.”
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Lance asked as he resumed his seat beside Arthur. He felt no physical attraction to this girl—should he? He hadn’t missed the other boys’ obviously desirous looks flung her way. How come he felt nothing? No, don’t go there—remember what Arthur said. Not important. Okay, so he didn’t feel any desire toward her, but then again, she intimidated the hell out of him so how could he feel anything except insecure? Still, he found her intriguing, and her skills with a bow and arrow were fantastic.
“Any of you seen that movie about the kids who had to fight to the death in this arena?” Many heads nodded in the affirmative. “I loved the book and told my parents I wanted to learn archery. ’Course, they got me the best instructor money could buy. He only stayed around till I got better’n him.” She again tossed off that haughty little laugh.
“How come you got a few months with nothing to do?” Enrique threw in, his eyes devouring the stunningly beautiful girl.
Reyna shrugged disinterestedly. “My parents went to Italy for their wedding anniversary. They never want me to go on vacations with them so they pay me money to stay home.”
“They pay you?” Lavern exclaimed. All he ever got was a beating when he didn’t bring home money.
Reyna shrugged, eyeing the small black boy dismissively. “Yeah, I got me six thousand this time. Long as I keep my grades up and don’t give the servants a hard time, it’s all good.”
“What about school?” Jack asked.
Reyna shrugged again. “I go when I need to. No tests today, so I’m good.” Then she scrutinized Jack and Mark more closely. Mark still had his arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulders. “You guys gay?”
Mark and Jack exchanged a surprised look. “How’d you know?”
Reyna smiled cryptically. “I been around.”
Arthur, like Lance, was impressed by Reyna’s skills and confidence, but her haughty attitude disturbed him, and he decided it must change if she were to become a permanent member of his new Round Table. Feeling the need to draw attention away from this mysterious girl, he fixed his gaze on the whole assemblage.
“Doth anyone have more to share before we begin training?”
Mark threw up his hand, and Jack laughed. “You’re not in school, fool!” Jack said, laughing.
Mark shrugged sheepishly. “Old habit, I guess.”
“Jack,” Arthur said before Mark could ask his question, “We doth all be knights-in-training. While it doth seem a popular word in this era, our code of chivalry requires respect for one another. Therefore, we must needs refrain from use of the word ‘fool’.”
Jack flushed red with embarrassment. “Sorry, Arthur. Bad habit.”
He and Mark smiled at each other, and Arthur nodded with a smile of his own to reassure them he understood.
“So, Arthur,” Mark began again, “that night you rescued us… well, you never said how come that bullet bounced off a you.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, tell us.”
There were excited murmurings among the assembled, especially from the boys who’d witnessed the event.
Arthur placed Excalibur in front of him, point touching the ground, his hands resting atop the jeweled hilt. “Merlin once told me that so long as I hold Excalibur in my grasp, no harm shalt befall me. I pray he be correct, for the next phase of our crusade be almost upon us.”
He lifted Excalibur and handed the enormous sword to Lance, who found he could support its weight with much greater ease than before as he gently held it across his outstretched arms. Arthur reached down beside his throne and lifted up his shield, holding it out for all to see.
There were gasps of surprise and excited murmurings from the crowd. Emblazoned on the face of the shield was a magnificent rendering of the A symbol with the sword thrust threw it, the same symbol many of these kids had seen in their neighborhoods, the symbol that had ignited gang wars throughout the city.
Enrique leapt to his feet in shock. “Shit, Arthur, you didn’t tell us youse that tagger!”
Arthur frowned at Enrique’s language, but Enrique didn’t even notice.
Luis stood beside his homeboy and pointed at the shield. “Them gangsters, they all want yer blood, Arthur. They want you dead!”
Arthur lowered the shield and raised a hand to quell the excited murmuring. “I know that, Luis. Though I did not at first comprehend the reason, upon awakening in this city, I had been given directives within several visions. There were tools, what ye call ‘spray paint’, and locations provided. I proceeded to ‘tag’ these areas as the visions dictated, and now I understand why. These gang members doth be of great import to our cause, my noble knights-in-training, and though I do sincerely hope my life shalt not end at their hands, we must needs give them that choice.”
Lance looked askance at Arthur. He’d known this day was approaching, but it still scared the shit out of him.
Chapter 4
AFTER 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, an
yway. 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.”
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