And The Children Shall Lead Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for The Knight Cycle

  Dedication

  PART 1: The Beginning of the End

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Now I Know What I Was Trying To Say

  Chapter 2: Did You Like My Little Surprise?

  Chapter 3: Did You Mean What You Said?

  Chapter 4: Can't You Guys Stop Them?

  Chapter 5: A Dance To The Death

  PART 2: We The Young People

  Chapter 6: I'd Probably Kill Myself

  Chapter 7: Sir Lance Goes to Washington

  Chapter 8: You Go, I Go

  PART 3: To Taste That Tree

  Chapter 9: You Have Less Than A Year To Live

  Chapter 10: It's Over Now, Isn't It?

  Chapter 11: We're Tired of Waiting

  The Knight Cycle

  About the Author: Michael J. Bowler

  Published by Michael J. Bowler, USA [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  And The Children Shall Lead (Children of the Knight IV) Copyright © 2014 by Michael J. Bowler

  Cover Art and Interior Formatting by Reese Dante www.reesedante.com

  Cover content is used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  Edited by Heather Sowalla, Windy Hills Editing [email protected]

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquiries, contact Michael J. Bowler at [email protected].

  Print: ISBN: 978-0-9903063-6-8

  Mobi: ISBN: 978-0-9903063-7-5

  epub: ISBN: 978-0-9903063-8-2

  Printed in the United States of America First Edition

  September 2014

  Praise for Children of the Knight (Book I of The Knight Cycle)

  “It is a "gritty urban fantasy" for young and old readers alike. The novel's main fantasy element is that King Arthur is brought by Merlin to modern day Los Angeles for a new mission—save the thousands of neglected and outcast children of that fallen city. And it's an intriguing comparison to Medieval England, where warring tribes once brought chaos to the old world, just as ruthless gangs infest and destroy our cities today. The metaphor begets and offers a simple question: How do you solve this problem? The solution can only be found in how the legendary King Arthur solved it back then. A light is needed to show people the way, and King Arthur serves that function as he is tasked with convincing gangs and other outcasts to unite and fight a much larger enemy. And it is through these children that the true heart of the novel is revealed. Filled with wonderfully likeable and realistic characters, all of whom have some kind of "flaw" that makes them unwanted, these societal rejects manage to do what adults never could—put their differences aside, accept each other, and in the process, unite for a greater cause.” –author Jay Jordan Hawke

  "The power of this book & the world it opens, plus the hope it brings, is outstanding!!! It is definitely not for the faint of heart & there is tragedy, but hope DOES prevail...” –Tame Anna

  “This story resonated with me on so many levels. As a mother, I can’t imagine a parent treating their child in such a harmful manner, although I’m completely aware that it happens far too often. As a teacher, it touched me deeply and reinforced my deeply seated belief that we cannot overlook any child, no matter how insignificant their contribution may seem. And as a human being, which we should all be able to relate to, it shames me that so often children are thrown away like this. Not every child is fortunate enough to be born into a loving, caring family. But does that means they’re not deserving of every opportunity to make something of themselves? It takes just one person to make a difference in the life of a child.” –Shawna

  Praise for Running Through A Dark Place (Book II of The Knight Cycle)

  “A superbly written tale, this book kept me on the edge of my seat as I lost more than a few hours sleep from needing to know what happened next. How was character XYZ's behavior going to be explained? What exactly was Operation Silent Treatment? A difficult past haunts main characters, a mysterious figure becomes a part of daily life in a way that is difficult to figure out, and a wonderfully rich story unfolds in a way that gives me hope that a spark can move mountains. Can children change the world? Watch them.” –Elnora

  “Bowler once again hits the mark in setting his tale among movie stars and media moguls, the rich sequestered in their mansions in the hills, never bumping elbows with the throwaway kids on the star-lined streets. Lance flows between both cultures, at times painfully. He knows where he came from, his jaw will never fail to drop at the ostentation that surrounds him. He'll always miss the trickling water deep within the sewers lulling him to sleep. No matter how far up the social ladder he climbs, he's still acutely aware of being the only brown skinned boy at the party.” –City Girl Who Loves To Read

  “Heart. That's what fills the writings of Michael J. Bowler. Love, empathy, a warm embrace of humanity, together equals a special kind of goodness that flows through his pages. To be blunt, if you don't like to feel, then don't read his work. But if you're okay with getting emotional, he has the ability to tug at your heartstrings like no one else can.” –Nicole Langan

  Praise for There Is No Fear (Book III of The Knight Cycle)

  “If you're a parent, this will scare you to death. If you're a youth, this will make you want to be a part of the Round Table. If you're neither (or both), you'll still be enthralled and thrilled, in equal measure, by the third book in Michael J. Bowler's Children of the Knight series There Is No Fear.” –J.g. Murphy

  “You will just have to read this wonderful book. I will, however, say: fasten your seat belts and keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times while it is in motion; as Michael takes us on another wonderful roller-coaster ride in ‘Children of the Knight III: There Is No Fear’.” –Dallas Vinson

  “Bowler invites us to walk beside Lance as he awaits trial for a crime he did not commit. Despite the compassionate attitudes of the probation staff at The Compound, California’s most secure juvenile facility, Lance’s confinement is incredibly trying. Along with Lance, we as readers experience the humiliation of being a minor caged in a secure juvenile facility—the forced separation from his family, the complete lack of privacy, being shackled and mishandled by sheriff’s deputies, not to mention the stark fear of an uncertain future where he faces consequences as if he were already an adult.” –author Mia Kerick

  This book is dedicated to the Native American youth I’ve worked with over the years - most, sadly, at juvenile hall. However, when I was student teaching an 11th grade English Literature class, one of my students was a Navajo boy I’ll call John who always laughed and smiled and brightened every day, even when the day was stressful. It was his ebullient personality I so vividly recalled when creating the character of Kai, and I’ve never forgotten his sunny disposition and positive outlook on life. I’ve also learned a lot over the years from my Lakota godson, Derrick, who lost sight of his Native heritage while growing up on the streets of Seattle and Los Angeles, and then rediscovered it in the most unlikely of places. Now clean and sober, he wants some day to help his people on the Pine Ridge Reserva
tion, and be a force for good, rather than bad. Like the Native American boys in my book, he’s learned that doing what’s right is more fulfilling than doing what’s easy. And then there’s Marcus, another Navajo youth I knew for many years. A great artist who struggled with his own personal demons, Marcus matured from a reckless boy into a strong, decent man who also learned to do what’s right, rather than what’s easy. I lost track of him when he returned to his reservation, but I hope and pray for his good health and long life. And for all of you who struggle to fit into images you think other people want to see, may you come to understand that you are already what God had in mind when he made you. Be yourself. Be decent. Be awesome. To quote Gandhi, “Be the change you want to see.” Hope endures…

  He squeezed his forefinger against the trigger, the boy’s face looming larger than life in his scope, and then he heard, like a bullet shooting from his phone, “Wait!”

  Instantly, he eased up on the trigger, and then gently lowered the gun to his lap to snatch up the phone in irritation.

  “Yes, sir?” he said with more deference than he felt. Personally, that kid who came back creeped him out, and he’d just as soon be done with him.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” came the boss’s voice over the phone, accompanied by the all-too-familiar chuckle. “Shooting them isn’t entertaining enough. And I want that little fag boy to suffer first.”

  He sighed heavily with disappointment. “Yes, sir.”

  “Bring it in for now, Mr. G.,” he heard in his ear. “I’ve got some planning to do before they start campaigning.” Gleeful laughter filled the night. “We’re going to have lots of fun before this is over.”

  The phone went dead.

  Sniggering, he looked out across the clear night sky at the two boys who had no idea how close they’d come to dying.

  Let the games begin.

  He silently gathered up his equipment and slunk off into the night.

  Once upon a time in the City of Angels, a boy became whole, and everything changed.

  “That’s all?” Jenny’s face fell into such a state of shock that Arthur instantly encircled her with his strong arms and pulled her in close to his heart. She trembled slightly within his embrace and laid her head up against his chest in despair.

  They were relaxing within one of the many lounge areas of New Camelot when Jenny finally asked the question Arthur had desperately hoped she would not: “How much more time do you have with us?”

  His answer stunned her into a painful, aching silence. Arthur cradled her head and lovingly stroked her hair while awkwardly attempting to explain the metaphysics of his stay in this era.

  “Alas, Jenny,” he said, sighing heavily, “Merlin has told me that my time here must end when Lance is fit to rule in my stead.” He sounded weary, and his heart felt heavy with loss.

  “But how will you know when he’s ready?” Jenny protested weakly.

  “Avalon will know.”

  Jenny tilted her soft face up and looked at him sadly. “Are you sure?” She sounded lost and forlorn, and Arthur’s heart lurched.

  “There is no hard-and-fast rule, Jenny,” he said by way of reassuring her. “Even Merlin cannot be certain of the precise day and time.”

  She frowned. “Do the boys know? Have you told Lance?”

  He shook his head. “If I were to say something now, he would think of nothing else, and be distracted from the crusade,” Arthur answered soberly. “I will tell him when I must.”

  Her face fell a moment with resignation. Then she sat up and fixed her light blue eyes on him, almost melting Arthur’s heart. “We need to get married right away,” she insisted. “I want to spend every possible moment as your wife.”

  Arthur could not help a slight grin crossing his lips at her spirit and deep, abiding love for him. But still, a shadow of doubt flitted across his soul. “Are you certain, Jenny?”

  Her eyes burned brightly with passion and love. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, Arthur, and I want us to be a family for as long as we have together.”

  Arthur let out a breathy little laugh of nervousness and relief, and Jenny gasped.

  “That’s Lance’s laugh,” she said with a grin. “That nervous one he has when he’s embarrassed.”

  Arthur grinned right back. “Alas, our son is rubbing off on me.” His face clouded slightly.

  “What?” she asked, sitting up abruptly, brows furrowed.

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “What shall become of our boys, Jenny, now that they have found one another as they have?”

  She visibly relaxed, smiling wryly. “They belong together, Arthur, you know that. We all saw it from the beginning. They’re going to be amazing. Wait and see.”

  He frowned. “I cannot help but worry for them in this unforgiving world. In my time there wasn’t any thought given to boys who loved other boys, though I feel certain there must’ve been such boys. This country seems rather harsh in its treatment of these boys, if Jack and Mark be typical.”

  She squeezed his arms lovingly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Lance and Ricky, Arthur. They go after what they want and don’t back down. Pit those two against the world and I pity the world.”

  Then his eyes locked on hers, and he smiled through his close-cropped beard. “I love you, Lady Jenny. You always have the words to soothe my soul, especially when I fret over our boys. You are the most extraordinary woman I have ever known, and I wish nothing more than to be your husband. We shall have our wedding here in the gardens as soon as you can make the arrangements.”

  Jenny’s face brightened like the rising sun. “That’s perfect, right on that big outdoor stage. The reception can be out there, too. I don’t have much family except Sam, but we’ll have all the knights and I’ll invite a few friends from Mark Twain and––”

  She stopped and gazed at Arthur’s bemused expression.

  “What?”

  He merely shook his head and smiled. “To see you happy makes me happy. Plan whatever you like, but I suggest recruiting Reyna to assist you. She would be devastated not to help plan such an event.”

  Jenny grinned. “Oh, I know that. I’m calling her right now and we’ll get started.”

  She leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, then leapt to her feet like a love-struck schoolgirl and practically glided from the lounge.

  †††

  Lance lay atop his king-sized bed, clad in a basic tank top and workout shorts, propped up against his headboard with Ricky’s head in his lap and Ricky, similarly clad in matching attire, stretched out lengthwise. Both boys held The Great Gatsby in their hands, faces scrunched with interest, eyes flitting across the pages as they devoured the final chapter.

  Being homeschooled by Jenny, they used every opportunity to move ahead in their studies, and Jenny had assigned them a lot of reading. Everyone knew the Children’s Bill of Rights would consume extreme amounts of their time, and eventually entail travel across the country to “sell” the idea of amending the Constitution. For this reason, Jenny wanted the boys, now in the eleventh grade, to be on top of their studies.

  These two boys, though unrelated, looked remarkably alike, especially with their long, dark hair and almond shaped eyes. Not to mention the similar skin tone. Despite being sixteen, neither of them displayed a hint of facial hair. Both felt in their hearts that they were two parts of the same boy, rather than being distinct individuals, and their physical appearance seemed to back up that fanciful notion.

  Lance finished the last few lines of the book, feeling sad and dejected at the emptiness of it all, those partying people who loved no one and nothing and only lived for the next drink or make-out session. He felt himself burn with shame, thinking back on the reckless and empty partying he’d done this past year, amazed that people hadn’t changed a bit since the 1920s. In fact, they may have gotten worse, he mused, given his own achingly painful party experiences. That was a lifestyle he wanted nothing more to do with, and
he knew Ricky felt the same way.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a soft sigh, and Lance glanced down to see the boy he loved close the book slowly and raise his poignant brown eyes.

  “Man, that was a sad book,” Ricky whispered, laying the paperback beside him on the bed and meeting Lance’s eyes. He saw something in those eyes, something lost and deeply sorrowful. “What?”

  Lance shivered slightly, even though the room was comfortable and he felt the warmth of Ricky’s presence suffusing him. “I was just thinking about Michael.”

  Ricky’s soft features clouded over like a wintry sky preparing a cloudburst, and he sat up quickly, trying hard not to glower. “I thought we were done with Michael.”

  Lance set down his own book as Ricky pulled in his legs and sat facing him, those gentle eyes reflecting the hurt he plainly felt.

  “I’m sorry, Ricky,” Lance began haltingly. “This book… well, Michael once told me he was like Jay Gatsby, and now I get that.”

  Ricky’s brows furrowed. “How?”

  Lance struggled to coalesce his thoughts. He forced himself to breathe deeply a few times before meeting the questioning look on Ricky’s face. “Michael had no friends, Ricky, just like Gatsby. He was rich and powerful and everyone wanted to party with him, but nobody wanted to know him.”

  Ricky felt his blood begin to pound. “Maybe cuz he was an asshole?” He hoped the jealously wasn’t too obvious.

  “He was. But he was looking for love, too, just like Gatsby.”

  Ricky’s light brown eyes flared a moment, like twin supernovas, with a mix of anger and fear. “Yeah, from you.”

  Lance lowered his gaze, unable to face the rejection he saw in Ricky’s eyes.

  “Truth or dare, Lance,” Ricky said quietly, fists clenched in his lap, not sure he wanted to know the answer. “How badly were you crushing on him?”

  Lance looked up, feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He saw the look in Ricky’s eyes, and knew better than to try and hide anything. “Pretty badly for awhile. But I didn’t get till the end that it was cuz of Jack, that I could feel Jack and see Jack in Michael.” He desperately wanted Ricky to understand.