The King's Henchmen: The Henchmen Chronicles - Book 1 Page 5

  “Not again.”

  Abraham liked the road, but tonight, he was ready to get back to the security of his cabin back home. Things just didn’t feel right. The tips of his fingers tingled, his stomach ached, and his head pounded. Halfway into the tunnel, he saw a quavering light ahead. It made a sun ring inside the tunnel.

  Squinting, he said, “What the heck?”

  Suddenly, the eerie quavering pool of light shot right at him and his truck. It passed right through him, bathing his truck in strange light. An instant later, the truck started jumping up and down on its tires. The engine bucked and rattled. A sea of flying bats, in the hundreds, bounced off his windshield. He slammed on his brakes and screamed.

  8

  Drenched in sweat, Abraham sat in the truck seat with his eyes wide open. The bats had cleared out. The truck lights shone on the dusty debris in the tunnel. It was a tunnel that wasn’t the same one from moments ago. It was now nothing but black rock and clay.

  “What on earth?”

  He blinked hard several times as he caught his breath. His heart thundered inside his chest. Far ahead, at least over a quarter mile that he could tell, was an opening of daylight.

  Rubbing his temples, he said, “No more jalapeño cheese fries for me.”

  The truck headlights and dashboard lights flickered. The diesel engine knocked hard and died. The cabin went black.

  He smacked the wheel with the butt of his hand. “Ah, come on.”

  The tunnel was pitch black, but in his side-view mirror, he caught the quavering light hovering far behind him. “Lord, tell me this is just some episode, because things are getting creepy.”

  Abraham popped his door open a crack. It groaned as he pushed it wide-open. Slowly, he stepped outside. The ground beneath him was solid dirt. The tunnel walls around him were those of a cave just as big as the tunnel he’d been driving through. He peered at the quavering light. It was too blurry to see right through, where the rest of the real tunnel would be. All he could think of was his encounter in the Big Walker Tunnel. Perhaps this was a bizarre part of a military operation he’d gotten caught in.

  He shouted, “Hello?” He did it again, but even louder. “Hello!”

  He heard no response. The cave tunnel was as quiet as sleeping field mice. He looked in the direction the truck was facing. The daylight was natural, not alien like the strange pool of illumination behind him.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to play right through it. I have to wake up sometime, dead or alive.”

  He got inside the truck’s cab and cranked the key. The engine battery was stone cold. Shaking his head, he grabbed Jake’s backpack. It had some of his son’s personal items as well as a few of his own.

  “Let’s go on a little hike, son.”

  On foot, with an unsettled glance behind himself, he moved forward in the direction the truck was pointed. From Jake’s pack, he grabbed a flashlight then flipped the switch. The light came on.

  “Whew. At least something’s working.”

  He lit up the field of dirt and rock at his feet with the welcome beam of illumination. It was as if nothing had ever passed through the cave before. It smelled like damp rocks and dirt, nothing out of the ordinary. He made it about fifty yards when the flashlight died. He slapped it on the side a few times. No light came.

  “Great.” He placed it back in his pack and shouldered it.

  Trudging through the uncertain footing, he headed straight toward the tunnel’s end light. He’d made it another hundred yards or so when he saw a figure darting into the tunnel.

  “Hey,” he said, waving his hands.

  The figure sprinted toward him. Judging by her build, he guessed she was a bony woman. She moved quickly and looked desperate, taking glances over her shoulder as she ran. She had nothing on but a slip of ragged clothing. She didn’t even look at Abraham the deeper she penetrated the cave. Twenty paces away, he got a closer look at her face as her demonic eyes locked on his.

  Abraham’s blood froze. “Sweet mother of mercy.”

  The pasty-skinned red-eyed woman looked like something spawned out of hell. She had a bushel of wiry brown hair that writhed like living wormlike snakes. Her eyes were red-pink angled slits, her leathery skin tight over her bony features. She showed a large mouthful of teeth as sharp as razors. She locked eyes on Abraham and changed direction, angling toward him.

  Frightened out of his boots, he turned and ran away, yelling, “Lady, stay the hell away from me!”

  He made three long strides before his toe clipped a hunk of sunken rock. He fell hard and sprawled onto the ground. He rolled onto his back just as the woman pounced on top of him. He screamed his own bloodcurdling scream.

  9

  Terror. It suddenly had a new meaning in Abraham’s life. Now it took on the form of a bony witch who looked like an evil schoolteacher who had tormented him in second grade. Somehow, he fought the fierce little monster woman off as they rolled over the ground. She hissed awful sounds at him. Her teeth bit at his neck. He pushed her face away with his big hands. He set a boot in her gut and sent her flying.

  She hit the ground hard, screeching like a wild banshee. Once she came to her feet, she eyed him and clacked her sharp teeth. Her talonlike fingernails clutched in and out at her sides.

  Abraham sucked for his breath. His lungs burned, and his limbs were exhausted. The wiry witch woman had already taken the fight out of him. He was out of shape but managed to get back up on one knee. Before he made it to both feet, the witch of a woman was rushing him.

  “No,” he huffed. “No, get away!”

  The whinny of a horse and clomp of horse hooves stopped the pink-eyed witch in her tracks. Her head lifted upward. Her slanted eyes turned big. The ugly scowl on her face turned to wroth anger. She shuffled side to side as if uncertain where to go.

  With a concerted effort, Abraham made a backward glance. The last thing he wanted was for the wiry woman to pounce on his back. What he saw startled him. A man riding a black horse rode into the tunnel’s entrance. He was some sort of medieval knight or warrior, just like he’d seen on television or heard about in stories. Abraham rubbed his eyes. This can’t be real.

  The horse trotted deeper into the tunnel. The rider’s eyes were locked on the witch woman. His face was obscured in the darkness, and he held a crossbow in one hand.

  The witch woman let out a screech, her gnarled hands and bony fingers massaging the air. The loose dirt on the ground shivered as her eyes rolled up in her head and turned black as pitch.

  Abraham’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. He couldn’t catch his breath as the air turned icy and shimmered around him. The witch’s breath turned frosty. Bugs and insects and worms popped up out of the ground. Centipedes crawled over his fingers.

  He jerked away. “Gah!”

  The witch spoke in strange words that twisted with arcane energy.

  Clatch-zip!

  A crossbow bolt struck the witch woman right between the eyes and stuck out from one end of the skull to the other. Her widened jaw hung open as her lanky, bare arms shook. She pointed a crooked finger at the rider and let out a deafening shriek.

  Abraham couldn’t believe his eyes as he plugged his ears with his fingers. The witch woman lived. She commanded bizarre power. Her crooked fingers needled the air. The icy wind in the caves howled, gaining strength and stirring his hair.

  The rider and horse reared up. The warrior tossed his crossbow to the ground and slid a shimmering sword out of its scabbard. “Yah!” the man said. The horse lunged forward. The beast bore down on the screaming witch, who ran at the rider with fingers poised like daggers. The horse veered left. The shining sword sang. The witch’s head leapt from her narrow shoulders, bounced off the ground, and rolled to a stop. Her black eyes turned pinkish red, flared once, and dimmed.

  The tunnel fell silent. The crawling insects slipped back into the cave dirt. The icy chill in the air lifted away. Abraham clutched his chest, pa
nting. He could feet his heart beating in his head. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly turned toward the man on horseback.

  A few dozen feet away, the knightlike warrior sat coolly in the saddle. Eyeing the witch, he dismounted with casual ease. With long strides, he made his way through the cave toward the witch. Without giving Abraham a glance, he stood over the witch, pointed the sword at her chest, and stabbed her in the heart.

  Abraham sat on the ground, sweating like a lumberjack and gasping. He knew what was happening wasn’t real, but it felt real. Wake up, Abraham, wake up! This isn’t even entertaining. He stared at the warrior. He was a tall athletic man, black haired with a neatly trimmed beard. His facial features were strong and angular, like many action heroes’ he’d seen in the movies. The warrior wore a finely crafted metal breastplate that had seen action. He was dark, imposing and formidable.

  Abraham lifted a hand and, not sure what to say, said, “Uh, hello?”

  The warrior gave Abraham a sideways glance. His eyes hung on him long enough to soak him in. Then, the man’s head snapped around and looked at the quavering body of light that hung deeper in the tunnel behind the truck. His glance slid over to the truck, and he shook his head. He did a double take between Abraham and the vehicle. He looked at Abraham and started talking in strong words.

  Abraham couldn’t understand what the man was saying. The warrior’s words were a strange language, but he babbled on intently. He dropped his crossbow and drew his sword. It was a fine length of steel with a keen edge that shone in the dimness. He pointed the blade at the truck and started shouting.

  Waving his hands in front of him, Abraham said, “I don’t know what you are saying.”

  The man’s dark eyes seemed to catch fire. His harsh words became stronger. The man’s chest heaved, and his nostrils flared. He spoke in rough, broken-up English that Abraham began to understand. “What year is it?”

  Finding his breath, Abraham managed to say, “Twenty eighteen.”

  “No!” The warrior hustled toward the truck and ran his hands over the hood. “I can’t believe it. I thought I’d never see the day.”

  “What day?” Abraham asked.

  “Your time has come. My time is done!” the warrior shouted at him. He stripped off his armor and slung aside his sword belt. Bare-chested, he was nothing but muscle and built like a linebacker. He looked at Abraham and in the same broken speech said, “Take off your clothing.”

  “What? No.”

  The warrior looked back into the tunnel. The quavering portal was shrinking. He turned on Abraham and, gripping his sword tightly, shook it at Abraham and said, “Do it now!”

  “I’m not doing that! Who are you? Where am I?”

  In two strides, the warrior crossed the distance between him, grabbed Abraham by the hair, and lifted him up to his toes. They were about the same size, but the man had the strength of a grizzly. The warrior then choked Abraham with his free hand while looking him right in the eye. “I am Eugene Drisk. This is Titanuus. It’s a long story, and I don’t have time to talk. Just give me your clothing!”

  Abraham shook his head. “No.”

  The warrior looked back at the shrinking portal of light in the tunnel. Angrily, he shook his head then punched Abraham in his soft belly.

  Abraham doubled over and let out a loud “oof” as he dropped to his knees.

  The warrior ripped off Abraham’s shirt and took his hat and glasses. He took his pants and shoes. He pulled Abraham’s head back by the hair. He stuck the blade in Abraham’s face and said, “Take my sword if you want to live.”

  “I don’t want your sword.”

  “Take it!” The man tried to stuff the sword into Abraham’s hand.

  He clenched his fists and crawled away. “Leave me alone, you freak. I don’t want your sword!”

  The man pushed him to the ground. He pinned Abraham down with his foot on his chest. He lifted the sword high overhead. “Take the sword or die!” He stabbed downward.

  Abraham flinched. He eyed the sword, stuck in the ground by his face. The witch’s fresh blood ran down the blade.

  The warrior kicked him in the ribs. “Take it. Take it, armor belt and all, or I’ll kick the life out of you!” He drew back his foot again. “You must do as I say!”

  “Fine!” Abraham fought his way up to a sitting position. “I’ll take it! Just quick kicking me, you deranged Renaissance reenactor!” He reached for the pommel. “I’ll take your bloody sword, seeing how none of this is really happening anyway! Then I’m going to beat you with it.” He grabbed the sword and locked his fingers on it tightly. A charge of energy like a thunderbolt from heaven went right though him. He shook all over like a flag beating in the wind.

  Energy exchanged between him and the warrior. An out-of-body experience occurred. Muscle and sinew popped. His entire body flexed and bulged, and he let out an agonizing scream. As quickly as the pain came, it was gone, and he was on his knees, chest heaving. The sword was clutched in his hand. The witch’s blood ran back down over his fingers. He looked up and cast his eyes on a shabby-looking man holding a rock in one hand and his clothing in another. He was a balding, portly, scholarly-looking fellow, naked from the waist up. The man studied his own puffy fingers. He gave Abraham an incredulous stare and said, “Perhaps you’ll be a better servant than me. But you’re the king’s fool now.”

  “Huh?” Abraham said. He took his eyes off the man for an instant.

  The man walloped him upside the head with the rock.

  By the time Abraham shook off the blow, the man was dashing away as quickly as his chubby legs would carry him toward the dying portal. He jumped through the ring of light just as it closed. The tunnel went black.

  Abraham blinked his eyes. “What just happened?”

  As he started to stand, the ground quaked, and debris rained down about him. The tunnel started to collapse.

  10

  With hunks of dirt dropping down on his head, he yelled, “No! This isn’t happening. No!” But it wasn’t his voice that was speaking. It was the voice of the warrior who’d forced the sword upon him. With the weapon in hand and ground shaking beneath his feet, he started to run. On his way out of the tunnel, he snatched up his son’s backpack and ran as if his feet were on fire. The tremendous sound of earth collapsing on itself followed after him. He dashed out of the tunnel into the shrubbery of the woodland. A blast of smoke and debris caught up with him, covering him in smoke and black soot.

  Abraham coughed and stumbled around until he was free of the dusty smoke. Looking back at the tunnel entrance, he clutched his head and said, “No, no, no.”

  He sat in the daylight, staring at the collapsed cave. Huge hunks of rock had come down. He wandered back inside the entrance. Seeing only darkness, he came back out. He brushed the debris out of his hair, wondering what had just happened. This doesn’t make any sense.

  Abraham sat on the damp ground, staring at the cave listlessly for what could have been hours, trying to make sense of what had happened. His stomach’s chronic gurgling finally came to a stop. He heard a horse nickering and followed the sound. Before long, he came upon the black horse the warrior had been riding. He’d never ridden a horse before but had been to races and knew this stallion was one of the big ones. It stood in a clearing, head down, chewing on the tall grasses.

  Coughing a few more times, he said to the horse, “If this is a dream, then I want you to be a unicorn.”

  The horse’s ears flapped.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Great.”

  He looked about. His surroundings weren’t any different from the Appalachian Mountains he was used to driving through. The trees were tall and green. Pines, maples, birches, and oaks grew in any direction he looked. The odd thing was that it was daytime, not night, as it had been when he entered the tunnel.

  He pinched a big hunk of skin on his forearm. “Ow!”

  The effort didn’t wake him.

  “I suppose
I’m going to have to ride this nightmare out.” He rubbed his face. His thick brown beard had been replaced with one that was neatly trimmed. The hair on his arms was black. The muscles in his forearms twitched noticeably when he moved his fingers. Without being able to see himself, he surmised he was in the body of the man who had accosted him. A strange transformation had taken place. He looked at his hands. They weren’t the same fleshy spades he had been born with, but big strong hands with hard calluses on his palms. “I guess it could have been worse. I could have been turned into that witch.” He shivered and grimaced. “And my belly’s no longer rumbling like an angry river.” He made a slow pass through the clearing. “So where in the world am I?”

  He took the horse by the reins. “I don’t know how this is going to work out, but let’s start moving.”

  He headed down the slope and walked aimlessly for miles. Riders on horseback crashed through the trees and into the clearing. It was a hard-eyed bunch of men and women, much like the warrior he’d crossed in the tunnel. Wary-eyed men and women brandished swords and spears. They all cast dangerous looks right at him as the group encircled Abraham.

  He said, “I want to wake up now.”

  11

  Abraham didn’t wake up where he hoped. Instead, he remained fully alert in his new surroundings. He could feel the heat of the sun, the breeze blowing through the branches, and the sweat running down his face. He scanned the company of coarse faces trapping him. A husky warrior spat brown juice on the ground. His head was bald, but his beard was full. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth.