by Ben Zackheim | Jul 14, 2014 | The Camelot Kids |
Welcome to today’s peek into the world of The Camelot Kids!
Today’s sneak peek at Russ and Josh has a special place in my heart. The boys are best friends, always together and always, well, blabbing. Between the two of them there isn’t a discussion unturned. If they’re not trying to get to the bottom of why cats don’t respond to whistles then they’re devising ways to test their theory that melted chocolate will flow just fine through the park fountain.
Here’s an excerpt from a scene with Josh and Russ, best friends to each other and loyal buddies to Simon.
The set-up: Simon has just had a disastrous first day in New Camelot. Day two isn’t shaping up to be much better, until he gets to know some of the other boys.
~~~
Simon woke to the sounds of rattling steel and heavy boots stomping out the door.
“What’s going…” he said, half-asleep. The darkness of the room was barely interrupted by the moonlight that crept through the high, slim windows of Wellwoven.
“Been trying to wake you for five minutes, sir,” Russ said, as he followed Josh out the door. “Better not be late again. Hector doesn’t like us making the same mistake twice.”
“Thanks,” Simon said. He threw on his armor as best he could, but it wasn’t so natural to him as it was to the others. He ended up running after the second-to-last last boy out, still rearranging some straps that, for the life of him, he couldn’t find a use for.
He followed the flow of kids down the hallway until the sound from the waterfall surrounded them. But before they reached Tapper, the boys and girls turned left to walk down a set of wide stairs. Everyone filed into a large circular dining hall.
Simon had never seen anything like it.
Large posts reached high to the arched ceiling, which was buttressed by equally massive beams. They must have been made from the biggest trees ever, Simon thought. Fireplaces burned the chill out of all four corners of the hall, casting a warm glow over everyone seated at the table.
And the table! It was the most impressive of all— a single giant, round surface with dozens of slightly curved benches around it, most filled with kids talking with their mouths full of breakfast. Along the walls were several arched windows, lined with ivy. They framed the grounds outside and the mountains in the distance. The first sign of the sun poked up behind them. It was going to be a beautiful morning.
Dozens of castle employees scrambled about, keeping the plates piled high with bacon and the cups filled to the top with juice. One lady kept the staff motivated, barking out polite but firm orders like, “Section 8 is drowning in eggs, while 6 hasn’t even smelled them yet, dear!” The servers bowed slightly as they passed her. She was an impressive woman, three hundred pounds if she was an ounce. Her face was kind but her eyes had a focus to them that kept everyone on their toes. She saw Simon staring at her and gave him a nod and a smile.
He spotted Russ and Josh waving at him. He waved back, which seemed to get a lot of attention, because the chatter began to quiet down. The boys and girls stared at him, some whispering. Simon felt like turning around and going back to bed, but he forced himself to step forward. The floor was smooth cobblestone that clicked under his boots. By step number three, it was the only sound in the hall. He slipped into a spot on Josh’s and Russ’ bench as fast as he could. He smiled and shrugged, not sure what to say.
“Well that was awkward,” Josh said. Simon laughed and some other boys joined in.
They enjoyed some succulent dishes, quiet conversation, and the view of the mountains. No one nearby was showing contempt for Simon so far. In fact, Russ and Josh were joined by some other kids who went out of their way to include him in the conversation.
“Nellie was pretty as a pie, you ask me. I don’t know what she sees in that doofus,” said a fair-skinned, slightly unhealthy looking boy. “He didn’t even pay attention to her the whole time.” The most life he had in his face was in his eyes, which were trying to get a look at this Nellie, who sat across the hall.
“Ooooo. Sam is smitten with a new girl today,” Josh teased him. He leaned in close to Simon and whispered, “He falls for a new one every week.”
“Cut it out, Josh,” Sam said, getting some much-needed color in his face.
“A true romantic,” said Russ. Some of the guys laughed, their mouths full of buttery bread and bacon.
“A true moron,” came a deep voice from farther down the table. Simon remembered the speaker as one of the large boys who had helped Gawain to his feet after the fight the day before.
The nearby kids dipped their heads down. They didn’t want trouble. Simon would have done the same a few days ago, but not here. He’d have none of that here.
“Who are you?” Simon asked curtly.
“I’m your worst nightmare,” the kid mumbled to his friends. The posse laughed. Simon noticed that Gawain was in the middle of them, but he wasn’t acknowledging the conversation at all. He just kept eating his porridge.
“I guess I’ll call you Mumbler, then,” Simon said, not sure where he was getting the courage to stand up to this guy.
All the big kids lost their grins, glanced at each other and nodded their heads.
They stood up quickly, in perfect unison. The backs of their legs knocked the long bench over. All the other boys on the bench, including Simon, were on their backs in a split second.
Gawain was standing along with the other big kids, but he’d grabbed his plate and was still eating from it as if nothing were happening.
Simon was about to sit up when a foot came down on his chest. It was Mumbler, who appeared very self-satisfied. The back of Simon’s head hit the stone floor. The big kid removed an armored glove from his hand and was about to slap Simon with it when Gawain snagged his wrist.
“We play fair around here,” Gawain said. Mumbler jerked his arm away and put his glove back on. Gawain leaned into Simon’s field of vision. “At least some of us do.”
The posse walked through the door to the grounds outside, laughing and giving Mumbler pats on the back. Gawain lifted the bench back into place and sat down by himself to work on a new bowl of porridge.
Russ grabbed one of Simon’s hands and Josh took the other. They pulled him up. All of them stared at their plates of tasty food.
“The Mumbler is Eric,” Russ said softly, probably wanting to break the humiliating silence. “He fancies himself Gawain’s righthand man. That would make him second in command among us trainees.” Russ glanced over at Gawain, who still ate as if he’d just been introduced to food, then whispered. “No one’s sure if Gawain even likes him, though.”
“You could have taken him if he hadn’t cheated.” Sam was jiggling his left knee nervously.
“There’s no such thing as cheating,” Simon said. The words came to him automatically. “The enemy will win any way he can. That means you have to think like him. As long as you’re on the right side of things, that’ll guide you.”
The boys didn’t know what to say for a moment. Even Simon pondered what he’d said, as if someone else had spoken with his voice.
Then Russ asked, “So being right is the only thing that separates us from the enemy?”
Simon was surprised at all the eyes on him. “I don’t know about that, but I lost because I didn’t act on stuff I knew.”
“Like what?” Josh asked.
“Like he’s bigger than me and that all his friends are bigger than me. I knew he didn’t like me from the second I saw him, so I was a target. Me and everyone I’m with. I knew the only thing that bound me to him in any way, actually, was the seat we sat on. It was a weapon he could use against me.” The boys nodded. “The thing that surprises me is that he had the move coordinated with the other guys.”
“Yeah, they pull that trick sometimes,” Russ said. “But usually without provocation.”
“I know the type.” Simon said.
by Ben Zackheim | Jul 10, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
If you think you know Merlin, it may be time to meet The Camelot Kids’ Merlin.
He’s a hair over 7-feet-tall.
His torso pushes 4-feet-wide.
He’s 3276 years old.
He’s not a people person.
Merlin’s love of England is the force behind his immortality. He won’t rest until the prophecy of King Arthur‘s return comes to pass. Now, as he senses danger surrounding his beloved New Camelot, Merlin gathers the descendants of the Knights of the Round Table. But since when was an army of teenagers a good idea? Merlin has defeated dark wizards, angry elves and dragons 145X his size. But can he handle The Camelot kids?
In this excerpt, Simon is on his butt, with his head between his knees. He’s been training with the notorious knight Hexter all morning and he feels like hurling. But when he raises his eyes he finds that the training arena is empty. A moment ago, it was teeming with teenagers, onlookers and about two dozen talky chickens.
Now, nothing…
Excerpt from The Camelot Kids
Simon stood quickly and lifted his training sword in front of him. He turned in circles for a moment, watching out for any movement. He had a sense that things weren’t right. Something dangerous was nearby.
“Who’s there?” He felt silly for talking to no one. It was probably teatime or something, and he’d passed out and missed everyone leaving. He imagined that they’d stepped over his unconscious body, laughing.
Merlin’s humongous shape emerged from the castle’s shadows. His stick click-clacked on the cobblestones.
“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” the wizard said.
Simon lowered his sword, but his instincts told him not to. Ever since the sword fight, when his muscles had done things they’d never done before, Simon felt heavy, wary. He saw the world as one big adversary.
“Where did everyone go?”
“Oh, I sent them home. It’s a clever little trick I picked up in India.” Merlin’s eyes lit up. Simon could almost hear the smile in the old man’s words. “You did well today.”
“Yeah. I was real chivalrous.”
“What’s wrong with you?” In an instant, Merlin had turned combative again.
“Nothing… My dad once said that praise from Merlin had a price.”
Merlin chuckled. Simon’s gut relaxed a little. The wizard put his hand on Simon’s shoulder and led him out of the courtyard.
“I do have a reputation for getting my way. But let me give you some context, Simon. I’m several thousand years old. That requires a strong body and a strong mind. It would be very easy to go mad after all I’ve seen.”
They stepped into the castle and Merlin grabbed a torch from the wall. “Actually, I have gone mad a couple of times.” His voice softened. “But one thing always pulls me out of the darkness. One thing keeps me focused and strong. Did your father tell you what that is?”
Merlin stopped abruptly and looked at the wall, up and down.
“Do you have a chainsaw?” he asked Simon.
“Um, not on me.”
“Bother.” The wizard furrowed his brow. He raised his staff, held it sideways and shook it. Suddenly, Merlin was trying to stay on his feet as the weight of his walking stick threw him off balance. Except it wasn’t a staff in his hand anymore. It was a chainsaw.
Without a word, the old man lifted the huge thing, yanked on the cord and revved it up. The explosive sound of the tool forced Simon to cover his ears. Merlin shoved the saw into the stone wall.
Except it wasn’t stone.
It looked like stone, but the surface splintered like wood, white chips flying everywhere. Merlin laughed, maniacally, as he carved out a door shape. The whole scene made Simon want to run to his bed and hide under the covers.
Merlin stepped back, turned off the chainsaw and handed it to Simon, who immediately dropped it because of its weight. The wizard stood still in the uncomfortable silence, looking at the large rectangle cut he’d made. His hair was a wispy mess, long strands of it falling over his face and sticking straight up.
“Merl-”
“Sh!”
Then the rectangle fell down into the hall with a thud.
“The door has moved since I last used it,” he said, as if that would explain everything. Merlin slipped into the hole he’d made in the wall and gestured for Simon to hand him his saw back.
Except it was a staff again.
“Thank you,” Merlin said in a way that made it very clear that he was enjoying Simon’s exasperation.
They took a step into a narrow spiral stairwell that curved down into darkness.
“As I was saying. The one thing that keeps me focused and strong is Camelot. My home. It has deserved better for more than a thousand years and now, in the midst of great danger, its time has come.”
“What danger?” Simon asked. But Merlin didn’t answer. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the dungeons. Should be fun.”
That didn’t calm his nerves any. “What’s down there?”
“Someone who is the key to finding our enemy’s weakness.”
“He’s a weird one, though,” came a girl’s voice from behind Simon, startling him. It was Maille.
“Don’t do that!” Simon barked.
“What? What’d I do?” Maille shrugged her shoulders.
“You snuck up on me!”
“I’ve been here the whole time, excuse me very much.” But her cocky smirk gave her away.
“Enough bickering!” Merlin barked. “We don’t want the prisoner to hear. It would give him an edge we can’t afford.” When they hit the bottom of the stairwell, Merlin lit a wall of torches with one wave of his walking stick. They passed empty cells that Simon would not have wished on an enemy, of which he had a number, growing by the hour.
At the end of the long, stone hall was a cell with a small flame’s light flickering through its bars.
The prisoner was hard to see, just a slight figure in the corner, whimpering like a caged animal.
Simon recognized him immediately.
~~~
And check out these previous character introductions:
Simon Sharp
Maille Rose
Caradoc the troll
by Ben Zackheim | Jul 3, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
Maille Rose’s wand is a baseball bat. That probably gives you a pretty good idea of what kind of person she is. She’s quick to jump into a scrap, especially if someone she likes is in danger. But she’s also known for being the only reasonable person in the room — at least that’s what Maille Rose would tell you ;-)
Maille’s past is a mystery for now, but I can tell you that a lot of what makes her so powerful has to do with that crack in her bat. You’ll get a close look at it soon. It’s a violent gash, from a violent time.
Maille Rose and Simon have an awkward introduction to each other. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 6 of The Camelot Kids!
The flight to Glasgow was dull, until someone showed up on the wing.
They’d been in the air for several hours. Simon couldn’t sleep, so he stared out into the night sky. The moon’s glow blanketed the huge jet engine outside row seventeen’s window. In the distance, dim lights flickered into view in the black sheet of night. He guessed it was Glasgow.
The cabin lights popped on when Simon saw movement near the wing’s tip. He squinted and pressed his nose against the window to get a better view.
Was that a person out there?
He glanced around. The passengers were either asleep or getting ready for landing.
A bolt of lightning killed the moonlight. In that moment Simon saw, clear as day, a figure perched on the wing in a long, wind-whipped robe, arms stretched in the air.
The plane shook violently. Shrieks filled the cabin. They fell a few hundred feet in an instant. The pilot pulled out of the dive but the climb was about as scary, especially when another lightning bolt shot past them.
After a moment, the pilot’s voice reassured them, “Sorry for that one, folks. Looks like we dodged a bullet or two there. I’ll have you on the ground before you know it.”
By the time they landed, there was nervous laughter, but everyone was ready to run for the exit.
Simon waited for the plane to empty out before he grabbed his bag. He followed the flight staff and searched for someone who might be his ride. Most people were hugging their families or trying to find the baggage claim.
There was only one person standing in the middle of the crowd as if she were waiting for someone. She was a pretty girl, early teens, with red hair and a black cape fastened at the neck with a shiny silver clasp.
She stared right at him.
As people crossed his view, Simon realized she was coming closer. Before he could blink she was standing right in front of him, with a very serious look on her face. The expression conflicted with her hair, which looked as if… as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. And were those bugs squashed to her forehead?
“Simon?” He nodded his head. “I’m Maille Rose. I’m here to take you to your uncle’s.”
“Hello,” he said as politely as he could.
Maille’s eyes darted about nervously. Her hair whipped around like branches on a tree, swaying with every movement of her head.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, as he noticed a bug crawling toward her ear. “Oh, um, hey, I think you have some bugs on…”
“No. Of course not. Nothing’s wrong.” She grabbed his hand and led him away. “Do you have much luggage?”
“None. I don’t own much.”
“Oh, too bad. That you don’t own much, that is.” Her grip on his wrist was strong. Too strong. She broke into a jog.
“Uh, why are we running?” he asked. But Maille didn’t answer. She peeked over her shoulder.
“Okay. What’s going on here? Who are you?” Simon stopped short. Maille moved close to him and leaned into his ear to whisper.
“Listen to me, Simon. You’re in danger. We need to get you out of here.”
“Who’s we? What do you mean danger?”
But Maille, if that was her name, saw something that made her eyes go wide.
“Oh, look at that,” she said with a smile, then ducked below the elbows of a gaggle of chattering businessmen and disappeared. Simon couldn’t spot her anywhere. He was going to call out her name when he felt a large hand settle on his shoulder.
“Mr. Sharp?” Simon turned and saw the biggest man he’d ever laid his eyes on. The guy looked like a boxer, with shoulders as wide as a door. He was dressed in old-fashioned chauffeur garb, hat and all. It fit so badly that it was more like a costume than a uniform. Simon made a gesture with his hand that was a cross between a wave hello and erasing a chalk-board. The man smiled and took his carry-on.
“I’m Hector,” he said with a distinct Scottish accent. “I’ll be taking you to yer uncle’s.”
“Then who was…” He stopped himself.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. Thanks.” Simon stayed a few paces back as Hector carved a path through the crowd. The driver’s stride was long enough to take four steps at a time up a flight of stairs. Simon stole a few glances around on the off chance he’d spot Maille, but no luck. Maybe he’d dreamed her up. Like he’d dreamed that someone was standing on the wing of a plane going 400 miles per hour.
Jet lag. Yeah. Jet lag.
by Ben Zackheim | Jun 28, 2014 | The Camelot Kids, Writing |
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by Ben Zackheim | Jun 27, 2014 | The Camelot Kids |
The Camelot Kids are coming!
I have a big announcement on July 1st that should make fans of comic books, Fantasy and great art happy. The full details (and sneak peeks at the artwork) will be in my July 1st newsletter, which you can sign up for here.
If you love Camelot, Merlin and Excalibur (or if you always thought you maybe-kinda-possibly-could) then check back here often for news about the series launch. I’ll be rolling out fantastic imagery that top-tier talent is crafting just for the first book in The Camelot Kids series.
So excited, I think I just giggled a little.
(Oh yeah, snoop around my site to get an early look at some of the characters.)
See you July 1st!
___________
