Children of the Knight

by Michael J. Bowler

  The king surveyed them and nodded. “Ye all hast achieved success?”

  “Yes, sire.” Esteban spoke for the group. “The people, well, they be on our side.” The others nodded, and Arthur acknowledged them with a bow.

  “Thank ye, my noble knights. You all make me proud.”

  They smiled at that, and Reyna leaned in to kiss Esteban on the cheek. When he turned in surprise, she planted one right on his lips, throwing her arms wildly around his neck and pulling him against her. For his part, Esteban almost crushed her lips with his own.

  Jaime laughed. “Break it up, homie, or you’ll have the same problem as me.”

  Reyna disengaged herself and punched Jaime in the shoulder. “Like hell!” But she laughed anyway, and Esteban smirked at Jaime.

  Arthur watched their joyous youth, their spontaneous and exciting energy, their pride in tonight’s accomplishments, with wonder and trepidation. All would be perfect, except for Jack and Lance.

  The kids continued the hand-over-hand passing of the backpacks and were thus engaged when the mayor and his people exited the front of City Hall and stood at the top of the steps. The TV news crews were already in place.

  Helen had gotten the call from Arthur that morning and had arrived early to set up and capture for the public whatever action would transpire. Beloved by Arthur’s knights for her support and positive press, Helen had been personally escorted through the crowd with her cameraman and had set up camp at the bottom of the steps.

  The mayor stopped short when he caught sight of her, especially with the camera aimed squarely up at him. Helen lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers tauntingly at Villagrana, tossing off that smirk she knew he hated. He scowled before returning his attention to Arthur.

  Arthur dismounted, helping Chris and Jenny down after. He handed the reins to Chris and gazed upward at the obviously angry mayor. “Good evening, Mr. Mayor,” Arthur said with a bow of respect.

  Sanders and Gale exchanged a worried look. They’d never had so many people gathered here at one time, especially so many young, volatile teenagers. This could get ugly real fast.

  “Sergeant Ryan,” Arthur called up, and Ryan disengaged himself from the group to step forward expectantly. “I wish to thank thee for assisting Sir Lance and Sir Jack when Mark died.”

  “They’re good kids, Arthur,” Ryan called down, surprising himself most of all by his words. “Never thought I’d hear myself say that, but they are. You been good for ’em.”

  Gibson stepped forward in surprise as Justin returned to Arthur’s side and said something the sergeant could not hear. Arthur nodded and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, his boy’s shoulder. He gaped at his son—the chain mail and breastplate, the helm, shield, and sword. But most of all he gaped at the obvious admiration Justin displayed toward Arthur, toward a man other than his father.

  Gibson almost couldn’t breathe. He wanted more than anything to rush down there and tell his son how sorry he was, how much he loved him. But no, that would be embarrassing, and Gibson hated that feeling. So he stood and soberly watched as Justin said something else to Arthur, and the king patted him on the back.

  “You and your kids are blocking public streets, you know,” the mayor called down feebly, not knowing what to say or do. Where the hell was R., anyway?

  “I do not see anyone complaining, Mr. Mayor,” Arthur replied calmly. “If they do, my knights shalt be happy to step aside.”

  A cheer rang out from the kids and the assembled spectators at Arthur’s response. More winking, flashing cell phones lights glittered all around City Hall, now accompanied by honking car horns.

  “We’ve gotten reports on what you and your kids have been up to tonight,” Villagrana went on, sounding more confident than he felt. “We got a bunch of wounded citizens in the hospital with arrows sticking out of them. Would you care to comment on that?”

  Arthur sighed, gripping Reyna’s cell phone tightly in his left hand, willing it to vibrate. “Mr. Mayor, someone alerted the drug dealers that my knights be on their way, and they attacked us first. Those you speak of were living under your care as guardian of this city and poisoning the children you claim to be concerned about. Ask the people gathered here with me if they doth care that some of these citizens have been hurt.”

  The crowd behind and around Arthur’s knights erupted with an ear-shattering roar, “We don’t care! We want Arthur!” The cell phones waved and flickered frantically like angry starlight, and car horns blasted into the night like howling dogs.

  Though slightly embarrassed by the people’s show of support, Arthur stood his ground and gazed up at the mayor with pride. And why shouldn’t he? His kids had done tonight what all the adults up there had failed to even attempt.

  Villagrana exchanged a look with the police chief, who just shrugged. Fury engulfed the mayor. “You cannot go around taking the law into your own hands!”

  Arthur shook his head at the venality of this man and his ilk. “I thought in this country the laws came from the people. Are we not the people?”

  The knights and spectators again went wild with cheers and applause and flashing phone lights and honking horns.

  “But alas, Mr. Mayor,” Arthur went on, playing to Helen’s camera as well, “I didst forget that in thine eyes and that of your fellow authoritarians, children be not part of the people, but mere property to be bought, sold, traded, and neglected. They have no rights. They canst not even vote for men such as yourself. Well, tonight my noble young knights have proven the error of your ways and your thinking. My knights have accomplished what you and yours could not or would not do, and the whole of this city has benefited.”

  He pointed to the dumpster, now overflowing with drug-filled backpacks. “Behold, Mr. Mayor, but a mere fraction of the drugs you have allowed to infest your city, drugs which destroy the lives of children first and foremost, and which took from me one of my most beloved knights.”

  He paused a moment as the image of Mark’s soft features pulled his heart with tight emotion, and Lance’s eager young face danced before his mind’s eye. “But Sir Mark’s death shalt not be forgotten. My knights have begun a crusade this day that is not near to being finished. Do you intend to finish the job, Mr. Mayor and Mr. Police Chief? The people doth be awaiting your response.”

  The crowd and the kids let loose with another resounding roar of approval, and cell phone lights flashed on and off and flickered back and forth in excited waving.

  PARKED a few blocks up Temple near the intersection of Spring Street, the limo idled silently. On a flat-screen TV, which had descended from the roof at the touch of a button, the occupants watched the entire scene below them play out live. Lance and Jack had flinched with a sharp stab to the heart when Arthur mentioned Mark and were visibly surprised to hear Ryan’s assessment of them. Always, however, they continuously fixed their eyes on the guns pointed at their sides and sought any possible opening.

  Ramirez chuckled as the camera zoomed in on Villagrana’s face. The mayor looked like he’d swallowed a whole onion, so disgusted was his expression.

  “Villagrana always has been a fool,” he said to no one in particular. “A useful idiot, but nothing more.” Then he looked at Lee. “Are your men in position?”

  Lee pulled his eyes from the TV and nodded.

  Ramirez grinned. “Let the diversion begin.”

  Lee raised a phone to his mouth and spoke only one word, “Now.”

  The frightened boys flicked their eyes from the middle-aged Asian back to the TV monitor, dread clenching their stomachs into knots.

  VILLAGRANA and Murphy exchanged looks with Sanders and Gale and the other council members, and they began speaking quietly to one another, debating what should be done to turn this disaster into a win-win for them. All recognized, however, that so far they were losing.

  Ryan and Gibson took the moment to eye each other.

  “You saw Justin?” Gibson whispered to his partner, his voice filled with pain
.

  Ryan nodded. “You gonna go get him, or do I have to?”

  Gibson looked askance at his partner, who just smiled in that way only old guys with a little wisdom can do. “I’ll go.”

  But before he could move, a group of fifteen individuals, dressed in ninja black, faces covered except for their eyes, appeared from behind City Hall and oozed smoothly and rapidly down the steps toward Arthur. They brandished samurai swords, their movements lithe, nimble and sure-footed.

  “Knights, to thy swords!” called out Arthur even as he drew Excalibur with his right hand. Esteban pushed Reyna back and unsheathed his own sword. Reyna grabbed Chris, and they backed Llamrei away from the melee. Jaime, Justin, Darnell, and the others surrounding Arthur pulled out their swords, and the fight commenced.

  Jenny backed away into the kids surrounding the fighting arena. A huge circle had quickly spread outward from the center, just like for a fight at any high school, with the combatants attacking each other within it.

  Helen’s cameraman immediately swung around his camera to catch the action, as did all the others, and the City of Angels bore live witness to the first sword fight ever to occur on the City Hall steps.

  Arthur’s knights used their weapons effectively against the attackers, who jumped and spun and wielded their samurai swords with expert and deadly precision. But Arthur’s knights were just as skilled in their own way and managed to block every attack with their shields, and their body armor protected them from glancing blows by the enemy.

  The sheer weightiness of Arthur’s swords often knocked the smaller attackers hard to the ground, especially when wielded by Esteban with his prodigious strength. The powerful boy pounded into the fray, swinging and hacking and parrying and dancing, putting technique ahead of brute force, just as Lance had taught him.

  Tai, the massive Samoan with the steamroller build, plowed like a bull into the skirmish, swinging and hacking with his six-foot broadsword, disarming one of the attackers with a hard swing that shattered the man’s forearm. Then he whirled and barreled into two more, head-butting one so hard he dropped to the pavement like a sack of potatoes and plowing his shoulder into the other, sending the smaller man crashing hard to the ground where Duc easily kicked the sword from his grasp and held the man down with the point of his own weapon.

  All of Arthur’s boys fought viciously, dancing and swinging, dodging killing blows, all their training coming to the fore, enjoying the opportunity to show off their skills, pumped up with the strength of their youth and vigor.

  Arthur wielded the massive Excalibur as though it were a kitchen knife, always swinging and slashing and hacking with his right hand for fear of dropping Reyna’s cell phone, which he clutched tightly in his left.

  Esteban and Darnell wounded their attackers with measured, well-placed thrusts to the shoulders, and the men crumpled to the pavement, their swords clattering out of reach.

  “My God!” exclaimed the mayor, looking over at Murphy. “Do something.”

  “Like what?” Murphy retorted. “Have my men shoot into a crowd of kids?”

  Gibson gaped in stupefied amazement as his son swung and hacked and parried and danced and easily took down not one, but two of the attackers. The boy swung that sword better than Gibson could use his gun. His stomach pulled tight with astonishment.

  The attackers were greatly outnumbered and they knew it. But then, their orders were to divert, not to win. Luis and Enrique suffered serious slashes across their sword arms that drew blood, causing them to stumble back against Reyna and Lavern, both of whom already had their bows loaded and cocked.

  Reyna smiled at the attacker moving in to finish off Luis, sword poised for the kill. “Sorry, sucker,” she said and let the arrow fly. It struck the man in his upper bicep, causing him to shriek in pain and drop his sword.

  Likewise, Lavern let fly his arrow, which caught the other man in the thigh, sending him sprawling to the concrete and the sword tumbling from his grasp.

  In all of this confusion, no one noticed a young Asian man creep through the crowd to stand behind Jenny, who fearfully watched the fighting, breath caught in her throat. She suddenly felt something cold and metallic press into her back.

  “Don’t turn around,” she heard a soft voice whisper, and she didn’t. Her heart beat wildly, her eyes fixed on Arthur and Excalibur, as though willing the man to look over. But he gamboled and parried against the largest of the attackers and did not even glance in her direction.

  “Now we’re going to casually turn and walk through the crowd ’til we’re clear of them,” the voice went on in her ear, casual and deadly. “You make a false move or try to get any of these kids to help, I’ll shoot you and then randomly shoot kids. You got it, lady?”

  She nodded and slowly turned around. The boys surrounding her were engrossed in the fighting, their own swords out and ready should they be needed, and had not even noticed her deadly predicament. With the metal still pressed into her back, Jenny wended her way carefully through the throng, death right on her heels.

  WITHIN the limo, Lance and Jack watched the fighting unfold on the flat screen with confidence and fear. There were too few attackers, Lance knew. There was no way they could beat all of Arthur’s knights. So why bother? A diversion, R. had said, but diverting attention from what? Despite his fear, he and Jack exchanged a look of pride in their fellow knights. Most of them, Lance knew, had been trained by him, which gave him a fleeting feeling of accomplishment, something so rare it caught up in his throat like a wad of gum.

  Ramirez observed the mayhem with amusement, occasionally glancing up through the open moonroof and drawing Lance’s attention. He, too, looked up through the open rectangular hole.

  A building loomed to the right of the limo, and he thought it was an old court building or something. But why would R. keep…? And then movement caught his eye, a flash of light against metal, up on the roof, right there on the corner.

  “What you lookin’ at, Pretty Boy?” Ramirez barked suspiciously.

  Lance whipped his head around but quickly recovered. “Nuthin’. The stars.”

  Ramirez shook his head in disgust. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a boy, you know that?”

  If he thought Lance would rise to the bait, he was mistaken. The boy’s mind spun. Roof. Metal. What did it…? And then he knew. A sniper! That must be what it was, and that’s what the diversion was all about, so he could shoot Arthur!

  Desperation swept over him. He wanted to blurt it out to Jack, who sat fuming over Ramirez’s insult, but knew he couldn’t. Their time was up. They had to get out of this car, and they had to do it now! They locked eyes a moment, exchanged a slight nod, and then began.

  Ramirez’s phone vibrated, and he put it to his ear. “I said I didn’t… what?” His eyes bugged out in fury, causing the boys to press closer together. Each had casually slipped a hand beneath his own tunic, and so far no one had noticed.

  “Sit tight, and we’ll get you later.” He slammed the phone down. “Fuck!”

  Lee turned from the fighting on TV to eye him questioningly. “What?”

  Ramirez glowered with such hatred at Jack and Lance that they thought he might rip them apart with his bare hands. “That was Gutierrez. He just barely got away from the cops, after our warehouse was firebombed!”

  Lee’s face actually reacted to that. “What?”

  But Ramirez’s fierce, killing glare fixed on Jack. “Forgot to mention that, did you, fagboy?”

  Looking braver than he felt, Jack pretended to consider the question. “Oh yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I did forget that.” Then he grinned.

  Ramirez turned red with rage. “Kill him!”

  That was their cue. They simultaneously yanked their hands from beneath their shirts. Each wielded half of the metal rod used to lift the toilet stopper, the metal rod from the toilet of their holding cell, the metal rod Jack had snapped in two with his powerful arms.

  With the quickness of youth they t
wisted around and rammed their sections of steel right into the throats of the Asians flanking them, causing both men to flail wildly about, grab for their throats, and drop their guns.

  Ramirez dove across the space toward Lance, but the boy was faster. He dropped under the man and threw himself to the carpeted floor of the limo, reached under the seat, and grabbed his skateboard.

  Jack flung himself across the small space and attacked Lee like he used to hit the tackling dummy in football practice. He drove his shoulder into Lee’s chest, shoving the man back hard against the car seat and sending the wind whooshing from his lungs.

  Quick as a rabbit, Lance was up with his board and swinging. It struck Ramirez hard in the jaw, and the audible crack of bone warmed his heart. Ramirez went sprawling, and Lance called out, “Let’s go, Jack!”

  Before the other boy could even respond, Lance was up and through the moon roof. Jack leapt up after, his muscled frame finding it more difficult to squeeze through. Lee reached out a hand to grab Jack’s ankle, but the boy kicked out, heard an “ugh,” and his ankle was free. Then he was hauled out by Lance and stood atop the limo. Lance pointed up at the court building.

  There was movement, visible even in the dark.

  “I think it’s a sniper. C’mon!”

  The boys leapt onto the hood and down to the sidewalk like panthers and took off running frantically down Temple, desperately hoping they weren’t too late.

  Lee was the first to recover and started to jump from the car with his gun. Ramirez flung a hand out to stop him. “Let ’em go. It’s too late anyway. Help me up.” His voice sounded slurred and uneven.

  Fucking kid broke my jaw, he silently fumed. He’ll pay for that!

  Lee helped Ramirez back onto the seat, and the man pulled out Lance’s phone. He dialed Arthur.

  THE battle had wound down. Only Arthur still fought, clashing with the biggest of the attackers. Arthur’s knights, the mayor and his group, the LAPD officers scattered around the perimeter, as well as the rubbernecking local residents, stood by helplessly, breathless with anticipation.