Felix Jones and The Honour of The Keeper (Felix Jones Adventures Book 2) Read online

  Felix Jones

  and

  The Honour

  Of

  The Keeper

  A Felix Jones Adventure

  Julian Roderick

  Copyright © 2015 Julian Roderick

  KINDLE Edition

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  PublishNation, London

  www.publishnation.co.uk

  For Tom and Matt who wanted to know what happened next!

  Thank you to Victoria who has given up on watching vampire stuff.

  Huge thanks again to little sister Claire for reading this first and showing my work to random strangers on a train!

  Titles by this author:

  Felix Jones and the Book of Words (Book 1 in The Felix Jones Adventure series)

  Felix Jones and The Honour of the Keeper (Book 2 in The Felix Jones Adventure series)

  Felix Jones and the Dawn of The Brethren (Book 3 in The Felix Jones Adventure series)

  Visit the author

  Twitter: @RoderickAuthor

  Facebook: J Roderick Author

  1

  Felix landed with a thump.

  He slowly opened his eyes to see where the vortex had brought them this time. Tom, his best friend and now Guardian, had chosen the picture through which The Book of Words allowed them to travel back in time. As usual Tom was alongside him with a huge grin on his smug face. Felix knew this journey defied the rules of The Book of Words as the magic was only to be used for good and not for personal gain. The questions in the History exam had flummoxed them. They were looking for as much knowledge on the Industrial Revolution as they could find.

  “What’s that noise?” asked a worried Felix.

  “It’s getting louder, whatever it is.” replied Tom smiling.

  “Where are we?” screamed Felix as the sound became unbearable.

  “Nowhere near Kansas, Dorothy!” laughed Tom, not knowing that actually he wasn’t far from there at all.

  The pair lay on their backs staring at a blue sky speckled with thin wispy white clouds. The smell of flowers and grass drifted on the wind.

  “This doesn’t smell like any Industrial Town I’ve been too!” exclaimed Felix as he checked that his bejewelled Keeper’s broad sword was still close to hand.

  “Doesn’t sound much like one either!” replied Tom, sounding increasingly worried.

  The grass was bright green and taller than their prone bodies. The sun beat down on them, the school uniform blazers were too much for this heat.

  “This isn’t England,” said Tom, “it’s too hot.”

  “Right!” shouted Felix, “let’s see what’s going on.”

  He raised his head slowly to peer down the small hill on which they had landed.

  “Not again!” he squealed to Tom, but his best friend and so called protector was running down the other side of the hill away from the commotion.

  “Run, you muppet!” he screamed at Felix.

  “Where?” replied Felix as he realised they would soon be surrounded. Tom was now running back towards the Keeper. As a Guardian Tom had vowed and was supposed to protect Felix, the Keeper, with his life.

  “What picture did you put on the desk?” Felix asked angrily.

  “I just opened the Booklet,” said Tom sheepishly. “I thought all the pictures were from the Industrial Revolution.”

  “Well obviously not!” snapped Felix.

  The pair stood on the brow of the hill as a column of United States Cavalry rode at great speed towards them. The sound of the hooves on the rock hard ground was deafening. The sound of their bugler was almost drowned out. In the near distance a hoard of Native American Indians charged through the woods after the frightened cavalry horsemen. The men in blue uniforms with yellow seams were greatly outnumbered and had climbed the small gently sloping hill to take some high ground.

  “What is this?” screamed Tom. “Ask the Book!”

  As the cavalry surrounded the confused pair Felix opened The Book of Words.

  To his horror the first page read:

  Location Little Big Horn River, Montana, USA

  Date June 25th 1876

  Languages English, Lakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho

  He hurriedly flicked through the pages of the Book but they were completely blank. When the pair had been in France on D-day there was page after page of knowledge Felix could plough through to find out what was about to happen. Seeing the look of panic on Felix’s face Tom shouted, “What’s going on?”

  “We’re at The Little Big Horn in the USA!” Felix screamed, “That dozy looking bloke over there shouting the orders must be General Custer of the 7th Cavalry.”

  “What? Who? When?” shouted a totally confused Tom.

  “Custer’s Last stand? Battle of the Little Big Horn?” asked Felix. The blank look on Tom’s face told Felix that his companion was clueless as to what they were about to be part of.

  “This a game of Cluedo?” asked a smiling Tom.

  “This is one of the worst days in American military history,” said Felix. “This lot all die.” he added, pointing at the Cavalrymen surrounding them.

  “You two, over there,” ordered the tall blonde General through his long droopy moustache whilst pointing to a gap in the defences. Felix and Tom ran to the overturned wagon and ducked just as the first arrows thudded against the wooden planks protecting them.

  2

  Custer had dismounted his troops and formed a circle in anticipation of the oncoming attack. The Indians closed rapidly all hollering and shouting as they neared. The first wave were on horseback and looked impressive in their brightly coloured head dresses made of long feathers, some white and some dyed different colours. Their warrior face paint gave them a fearsome appearance. They charged bravely towards the riflemen on the hill. The cavalrymen were hiding behind saddles, horses on their sides and overturned wagons.

  “How do we get out of this?” Felix screamed at the Book of Words. The Book usually gave them ways of dealing with dangerous situations. However, this time the reply was not what they needed. On the second page appeared the words:

  ‘Figure it out for yourself’

  “You stupid book!” Felix shouted over the din of gunshot around him.

  “What now?” asked Tom as he sat holding his Guardian’s sabre tightly ready if needed to fight.

  “No answers, we’re on our own.” Felix said in a panic.

  “Right clever clogs, we either fight or run.” replied Tom.

  “We can’t run, we’re surrounded,” said Felix. “We’ll fight only if we have to.”

  The pair cowered behind the wagon as soldiers were felled by the flying arrows and gunshots from the marauding Indians. There was little time to rest as wave after wave of attack came up the hill. The Americans were outnumbered at least three to one and after fierce fighting over half of them lay dea
d.

  The attacks became fewer and less frequent as the Indians regrouped. Bodies were removed from the makeshift battlements and the circle was made smaller and tighter ready for what came next. Custer approached the weary pair of strange looking young boys.

  “Where the hell did you two come from?” he asked.

  Thinking quickly, Felix replied, “We were out for a stroll, sir, when you came from over yonder and surrounded us.”

  “Very old world American!” laughed Tom.

  “Out for a stroll!” Custer exclaimed, “There’s no town for miles. Now where did you really come from dressed in your Sunday finery?”

  The conversation was cut short by gunfire as a group of soldiers trying to creep away from the hill towards the cover of woods were picked off by awaiting Indians.

  “Unless Benteen’s column comes we are done,” said Custer. “He should be here by now.”

  “Who’s Benteen?” Tom whispered to Felix.

  “A Captain who this numpty sent off to scoop up any wandering Indians a few miles away and who, because he doesn’t like Custer, will take his time coming here,” said Felix smugly.

  “How do you know all this rubbish?” asked Tom.

  “I saw it in a film,” Felix said smirking, “God knows if it’s true!”

  “What’s a film?” asked a curious Custer.

  “It’s like a dream,” said Tom winking at Felix.

  “I need to get another message to Benteen,” added Custer, “and where is Reno?”

  “Reno is a Major who was sent to clear the Indian village, he can’t come because there are loads of them there,” said Felix before Tom could ask.

  “You two are dressed in black,” smiled Custer, “go to Benteen and tell him to come quickly.”

  The pair were given a map and told to go.

  “Wait,” said Tom, “remember Paris.” he added whilst plastering soil on his face to camouflage it in the vegetation. Felix did the same and they grabbed their swords and on their stomachs they slinked off down the hill.

  Felix led the way for a change, heading straight for a clump of bushes that would give them some shelter. They sat there in the shade thinking about how they had ended up here. Tom tapped Felix on the shoulder and pointed towards a narrow stream behind them. They both took a drink and began following the stream which ran in the general direction Custer had pointed out. They had gone less than one hundred metres when they were grabbed from behind and dragged with knives at their throats into the darkness of a small copse.

  3

  Terrified, Felix and Tom were taken to a large tepee. Tom didn’t think it would be as comfortable as the one he had camped in a few years earlier with his family. In the middle of the tent was a small fire smouldering away and glowing bright red. It gave enough light for the boys to see fairly clearly. On the walls were brightly coloured woven blankets. Dotted around they could see spears with hairy things tied along their shafts. Felix knew they were scalps and he didn’t want theirs to be the next additions.

  “We come in peace,” said Felix in perfect Arapaho. At least the Book was allowing him to speak the local language again.

  “You speak with many tongues,” replied the old man sitting crossed legged near the fire. He wore a massive head dress that came almost down to the floor when he stood. His face was wrinkled and showed the scars of many battles. The worries for his people as they were being forced off their land by the Americans’ advancing civilisation had also taken their toll and he looked weary.

  “I do,” said Felix. “We have come from a land far away to see what is happening here. We mean no harm to anyone.”

  “And yet you carry these strange weapons,” shouted the old man. “You have come to kill Sitting Bull.”

  “No,” said Felix. “These weapons are only for us to use against our mortal enemies, the Brethren,” explained Felix. Sitting Bull appeared to accept this and invited the boys to join him and some of the village elders around the fire. He passed a long, intricately carved pipe to Tom.

  “No thank you, I don’t smoke,” said Tom politely.

  “Smoke it!” whispered Felix, his face saying if Tom didn’t he would have Felix to deal with later. Tom took the pipe and sucked the smoke into his lungs. He began coughing and spluttering much to the gathered crowd’s amusement.

  “Your turn.” He smirked as he passed the pipe on to Felix and watched him turn a strange grey colour as he had the same reaction as Tom. The old men found this hilarious and made them do it again.

  “What do you want?” asked Sitting Bull.

  “We must go home,” said Felix.

  “Nonsense!” shouted the chief. “You will join us in battle against Yellow Hair.”

  “Who the hell is Yellow Hair?” whispered Tom.

  “Indian name for Custer,” Felix whimpered back, “now shut-up.”

  “You are brave travellers,” said Sitting Bull as one of his squaws drew markings on their faces with war paint. Another woman brought the pair some hide trousers and moccasins for their feet. Tom went to put his hand to his mouth to make Indian noises but Felix’s hard kick ended his fun. The pair changed from their school uniform. Felix slipped The Book of Words from his blazer pocket into his waist band. He looked up and saw Tom take a rolled text book from his blazer and place it in his belt.

  “You muppet!” said Felix. “We could have been out of here ages ago if I’d known you had that!”

  “What?” replied Tom, who was still none the wiser to the obvious answer to all their prayers.

  “The text book,” said Felix, “it’s full of pictures.”

  “O yea,” laughed Tom, “I forgot about that in all the excitement.”

  The Chief came across the tent to admire his brave, new warriors.

  “You have brought gifts,” he said smiling as he removed both books from the boys grasp. Tom went for his sabre but Felix grabbed his hand to stop him drawing it.

  “They may read it and find out what happens to them!” exclaimed Tom.

  “They can’t read English, relax,” said Felix. “We’ll have a chance to get them back soon.”

  4

  The wailing and hollering of angry warriors shocked Felix and Tom as the Indians prepared for battle. Their mission was not to get killed whilst trying to retrieve The Book of Words and, if possible, the History textbook. The textbook would offer them a way out through one of the pictures; anywhere would be safer than here.

  They were marched to the front of the howling braves. The Books were handed to the leader of the braves by Sitting Bull.

  “Crazy Horse,” said the old man, “these boys are omens of good luck. Take their gifts and lead our men into battle, they will keep you safe and true.”

  “Great,” said Tom. “The bloke at the front that doesn’t care if he dies because he’s prepared to join the Great Spirits in the sky HAS GOT OUR BOOKS!”

  “I think we’re expected to go with him,” laughed Felix as he handed Tom the reins of a white pony.

  The boys mounted their steeds and the horses sped off after Crazy Horse. They bounced along like tyres hitting potholes in the road. Neither of them had ridden since a gentle pony trek with the cubs when they were nine years old - and they had saddles then. The old men of the village pointed and laughed at them as they disappeared towards the awaiting US Cavalry, overtaking all of the Indian Braves and riding totally out of control.

  “My backside is aching!” shouted Tom after a few minutes. He looked behind him and saw Felix with his arms clinging around the horse’s neck, holding on for dear life. He could not help but laugh. His chortle at his best mate was cut short as his horse jumped over a log, throwing him clean off and into the bushes. A hand reached down and scooped him up onto another horse. Tom clung onto the figure in front of him. The mad horseman was Crazy Horse. There, tucked in the bridle of the horse, were the books - one to the left and one to the right.

  “Hurry up!” shouted Tom as Crazy Horse led the charge out of the
woods and up the hill towards Custer and his troops. Bullets whistled past them as they closed in. Crazy Horse jumped the barricade and leapt from his horse knocking Tom off too. Crazy Horse engaged the soldiers in hand to hand combat. He was like a man possessed swinging his tomahawk wildly round his head. Tom followed him closely then realised the books were with his horse which had carried on running and had jumped clean over the other side of the defences.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” came the cry as Felix appeared over an upturned wagon and flew through the air as his horse decided it no longer needed a rider. Felix’s fall was broken as he landed in a sweaty heap upon Tom.

  “The horse!” screamed Tom above the sound of guns and deathly screams. “The Books are on the horse!”

  “Watch it!” cried Felix as a soldier lunged at them with a bayonet. Tom dodged the blade as Felix tripped the petrified soldier up. Tom walloped the attacker with a log, knocking him out. Crazy Horse patted them on the back and launched into a frenzied attack on a trio of sword wielding soldiers. They fought bravely but not for long. The numbers of Indians overwhelmed the cavalry and in minutes the only three left standing were Custer and two others. There were three bangs and the battle was over.

  Tom and Felix were still shaking as they searched the woods for their horses. They rounded up several ponies and headed back up the stream to the Indian village. The sounds of celebration filled the air, braves paraded their war spoils as they danced round a huge bonfire. Sitting Bull sat on a large throne-like chair covered in animal hide and soft fur. He had a beaming smile across his face but Felix could see he was troubled.

  As the tired pair approached the joyous scenes, the cheering got louder.

  “You performed bravely my warriors,” announced Sitting Bull pointing to a blood splattered Crazy Horse.