Read Online Knights of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 2) by Benjamin Wallace - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Benjamin Wallace
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worse. It hung from buildings as far as he could see and fought
with the white of the snow to be the town’s dominant color.
To say an apocalypse had occurred, the town’s
buildings were well maintained and in relatively good shape. They appeared
freshly painted and even the store windows were maintained with artistic
displays. Each was draped in purple and gold, of course.
Despite the color scheme, the citizens of the
town appeared happy, healthy and better groomed than most of the places he had
visited. No one rushed. They strolled in pairs or small groups, smiling,
laughing and only looking over their shoulders when a friend called out.
Children played and their mothers watched them with carefree smiles.
“It seems … nice,” Jerry said, trying to
spark conversation with the guards.
“Yeah, it’s a friggin’ fairy tale. Keep
moving.”
Any attempt at conversation from that point
on was answered with the broad side of a sword slapped across his calves, so
Jerry decided to finish the walk in silence.
The knights directed him to the town hall. A
pair of guards at the entrance stood at their approach.
The guard on his right jerked a thumb in
Jerry’s direction. “He’s waiting for this one.”
The doormen nodded and pulled the double
doors open. “He said to go on in.”
The other guard at the door examined Jerry.
“Who the hell is this guy?”
The escort pushed him through the door. “Who
cares? If the king is in such a hurry to see him, it means the king is in a
hurry not to see him.”
It was warm inside. The train ride had been
so frigid he had forgotten he was cold. He enjoyed the warmth so much that he
hesitated when he was called down the hallway. One of the guards threw a
shoulder into him and drove him down the hallway and into the great hall.
Jerry laughed when he saw the throne and he
received a slap across the back of his head for his sense of humor.
“Enough.” The voice came from atop the mass
of twisted metal. The king sat in obvious discomfort but his voice still filled
the great hall. “Remove his shackles and leave us.”
The guards hesitated to comply.
“But, sire, he’s dangerous,” one said.
“He and his woman beat six men in the
market,” the other added.
“Nine,” Jerry said, and felt the sword point
in his back. “Well, it was.”
The king waved a tired hand. “I know what
this man is capable of and I appreciate your concern, but I wish him uncuffed
and I wish to speak to him alone.”
The guards dropped their argument and removed
the bindings. They backed away, but did not leave the room.
Jerry couldn’t tell where the man had been
standing, but a small figure in a robe that was much too large emerged from the
shadows and whispered to the guards, “Your king told you to leave. Why are you
still here?”
The guards jumped at the sound of the man’s
voice and did not question the king again. They left the courtroom and pulled
the doors shut behind them.
Jerry looked at the man on the throne. He sat
reclined, his arms outstretched. He wore a harsh gaze and a purple robe with
sleeves that draped the top of the throne. He said nothing. The two men
measured each other with stares for several seconds.
Jerry broke the silence. “That looks
uncomfortable.”
The king sat forward, tilting his head to
clear the ceiling along the way. He leaned forward with his hands on the
throne’s arms as if he were about to leap. “You have no idea.” Elias slithered
out of his seat and made his way down the stairs. “I asked for something grand
and symbolic.” He reached the foot of the throne and turned to look at it. “I
think they did what I asked out of spite.”
“Could be worse, I guess. I know a lot of
people that don’t have any thrones.”
The man in the cloak scolded him. “You should
not speak to the king that way.”
“Take it easy, Gargamel. The king and I are
talking.”
Gargamel looked to the king.
“It’s all right, Jeffery. Please leave
with the white of the snow to be the town’s dominant color.
To say an apocalypse had occurred, the town’s
buildings were well maintained and in relatively good shape. They appeared
freshly painted and even the store windows were maintained with artistic
displays. Each was draped in purple and gold, of course.
Despite the color scheme, the citizens of the
town appeared happy, healthy and better groomed than most of the places he had
visited. No one rushed. They strolled in pairs or small groups, smiling,
laughing and only looking over their shoulders when a friend called out.
Children played and their mothers watched them with carefree smiles.
“It seems … nice,” Jerry said, trying to
spark conversation with the guards.
“Yeah, it’s a friggin’ fairy tale. Keep
moving.”
Any attempt at conversation from that point
on was answered with the broad side of a sword slapped across his calves, so
Jerry decided to finish the walk in silence.
The knights directed him to the town hall. A
pair of guards at the entrance stood at their approach.
The guard on his right jerked a thumb in
Jerry’s direction. “He’s waiting for this one.”
The doormen nodded and pulled the double
doors open. “He said to go on in.”
The other guard at the door examined Jerry.
“Who the hell is this guy?”
The escort pushed him through the door. “Who
cares? If the king is in such a hurry to see him, it means the king is in a
hurry not to see him.”
It was warm inside. The train ride had been
so frigid he had forgotten he was cold. He enjoyed the warmth so much that he
hesitated when he was called down the hallway. One of the guards threw a
shoulder into him and drove him down the hallway and into the great hall.
Jerry laughed when he saw the throne and he
received a slap across the back of his head for his sense of humor.
“Enough.” The voice came from atop the mass
of twisted metal. The king sat in obvious discomfort but his voice still filled
the great hall. “Remove his shackles and leave us.”
The guards hesitated to comply.
“But, sire, he’s dangerous,” one said.
“He and his woman beat six men in the
market,” the other added.
“Nine,” Jerry said, and felt the sword point
in his back. “Well, it was.”
The king waved a tired hand. “I know what
this man is capable of and I appreciate your concern, but I wish him uncuffed
and I wish to speak to him alone.”
The guards dropped their argument and removed
the bindings. They backed away, but did not leave the room.
Jerry couldn’t tell where the man had been
standing, but a small figure in a robe that was much too large emerged from the
shadows and whispered to the guards, “Your king told you to leave. Why are you
still here?”
The guards jumped at the sound of the man’s
voice and did not question the king again. They left the courtroom and pulled
the doors shut behind them.
Jerry looked at the man on the throne. He sat
reclined, his arms outstretched. He wore a harsh gaze and a purple robe with
sleeves that draped the top of the throne. He said nothing. The two men
measured each other with stares for several seconds.
Jerry broke the silence. “That looks
uncomfortable.”
The king sat forward, tilting his head to
clear the ceiling along the way. He leaned forward with his hands on the
throne’s arms as if he were about to leap. “You have no idea.” Elias slithered
out of his seat and made his way down the stairs. “I asked for something grand
and symbolic.” He reached the foot of the throne and turned to look at it. “I
think they did what I asked out of spite.”
“Could be worse, I guess. I know a lot of
people that don’t have any thrones.”
The man in the cloak scolded him. “You should
not speak to the king that way.”
“Take it easy, Gargamel. The king and I are
talking.”
Gargamel looked to the king.
“It’s all right, Jeffery. Please leave
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