A Knight's Honor: Lance Rock's Spiritual Journey Book 2

By Robert L. Beck

Character is to man what carbon is to steel.

In this follow-up sequel to Dawn of the Knight, Lance Rock is forced to return home to Canada to attend to his mother’s illness, to heal himself, and with the hope of solving the mystery of Scott James’s disappearance. Once there, he meets and befriends a beautiful, feisty redhead and her handsome brother. He accepts an invitation to join them and others, including a Christian doctor, on an archaeological expedition up to the desolate Canadian Arctic. On this trip God begins to reach out to Lance for the first time and He proves Himself to be a faithful protector as the adventure unexpectedly evolves into a terrifying ordeal of supernatural horror and survival!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert L. Beck
• Release date: Dec 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311377579

Robert L. Beck

I’m a huge fan of cool, operative/secret agent type characters having grown up watching James Bond, Derek Flint, The Wild, Wild West, The Avengers, The Man from Uncle, and more recently, Jason Bourne and Alex Rider. When I was younger, I had read a 1960’s young adult teen spy series titled, “Chris Cool/Teen Agent,” by Jack Lancer, and I loved it. That series only lasted six books and I decided that if I would ever write a book/series it would involve an “operative” type teenage character. Since I’m originally from Canada, I made the protagonist Canadian as well. Being a romantic at heart, I also knew I wanted the book to contain a romantic element as a major part of the story-line. And finally, since I myself am a Christian, I also wanted to put Lance on a spiritual journey where he eventually comes to know God and have his sins forgiven in book 4.

Book preview

A Knight's Honor

Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 2

Master Edition

By

Robert L. Beck

Copyright © 2019 Robert L. Beck

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Other and future books in the series.

Dawn of the Knight: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 1

A Knight's Promise: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 3

Knightfall: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 4

A Knight in the Jungle: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 5

Day of the Knight: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 6

Dragon Slayers: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 7

Joust: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 8

Plague: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 9

Mindbender: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 10

Blackest Knight: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 11

Mindbender 2: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 12

Mindbender 3: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 13

Mindbender 4: Lance Rock’s Spiritual Journey Book 14

For Jess Beck, Katie Jones, and Benjamin Millard.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5.

Chapter 1

The North Korean stood six feet three inches tall and weighed 225 pounds. His white dobok or uniform was sprinkled and spotted with blood; the blood of the opponents he had obliterated. His name was Yong-Sun Ryu but at this tournament he had attained the nickname, The Terminator. The tournament was the World Junior Kumite Championship; a secret, invitation-only freestyle martial arts event that occurred only once every four years. It had an international following and this year, the year of my sixteenth birthday; it was being held in Toronto in an undisclosed location. I was sitting as a spectator having begged Sifu Yin Lu Tang, my kung fu teacher, to let me attend along with two other fellow students would actually be participating.

There were four main rules in this competition. First; the fighting was to be unarmed and full-contact. Second; no protective equipment was allowed to be worn. Third; no participant could be over the age of 18, and fourth; all the participants had to get their father's permission by signature on a waiver stating that no one was to be held accountable if serious injury or possible death should occur during a fight. It was a blood sport in the truest sense harking back to days long ago when martial art contests were to be feared and revered. The reward for the ultimate champion of this event was the coveted golden sash. This sash, running across the torso from the shoulder to the waist, had one kilogram of the finest 24-karat gold strands woven into it.

I surveyed the room. A multitude of fighting styles had been showcased here by representatives predominantly from the Far East. However, none had been able to defeat the devastating style of taekwondo displayed by the young man now standing on the battle dais. It wasn't so much his technique, although perfect, as it was the unbelievably tremendous speed and power of his strikes. His kicks and punches, like blows from a sledge hammer, had broken bones, lacerated tissue, and ruptured muscles; while his own body had seemingly like Superman, been able to withstand anything thrown against it. Hence the nickname, The Terminator, because fighting him was akin to fighting the T-800 model from the movie of the same name.

Ryu relished the splattered blood of his hapless opponents while gleefully gawking as they were carried off the platform; many being severely injured. One of them was my own fellow student at the academy, Peter Hsiung, who had his pelvis broken. It was a dishonorable cheap shot by The Terminator that had caused the injury and the crowd had loudly vocalized their disapproval.

I was angered by Ryu's heartless cruelty and by the clever grins on the faces of his ensemble; the supposed teachers and trainers that had accompanied him to the event. Even though they wore civilian clothes they could not fool me. I recognized them for what they were—officers in the Korean People's Army and probably a scientist or two as well. Yong-Sun Ryu's power and size went far beyond those of any normal 18 year old boy. I suspected he was nothing less than the manifestation of a new kind of biochemical engineering experiment; a showcase for North Korean pride. I also questioned his age as well. However, the rules of kumite did not include drug testing or birth certificate scrutiny. Honor and integrity were implicit and expected to be observed, except by those who had their own agenda. What better way to prove the success of their latest clandestine, body-intensifying agent then to carry back the golden sash to be hung in one of the rooms of Ryongsong Residence? For I knew Ryu would not be allowed to keep it for himself.

I followed Ryu's gaze. He was leering at Steven Chu, the other student from my teacher's school. Steven was a semi-finalist and was supposed to be up on the platform facing Ryu, but fear had disheartened him. He stared down at the floor—intimidated and ashamed. There was no rule that said a registered combatant had to fight. In fact, Ryu himself had advanced to the final round because his semi-final opponent had conceded rather than faced the certain excruciating defeat that was to come by the hands and feet of The Terminator.

I looked over at my teacher. Although his expression remained stoic, I perceived that deep within his heart he was hurting. He would not order Steven to fight, but I knew he longed for one of these two students to win the golden sash and had focused their training over the years toward that specific goal. Apart from Scott James, (my mentor and former top operative for the United States government), no other man had such a profound influence on my life. I loved my teacher. I had heard rumors and stories about how long he had waited for this competition to finally be held in Toronto. Yin Lu Tang was a former Chinese national whom Scott had rescued from Lingyuan prison. Just the thought of that place made me shudder. He did not talk much about himself, but I suspected that he must once have been a high-ranking government official or had some other occupation that had put him a position to have access to classified material. He then became a dissident which resulted in his arrest. Why else would the United States government have sent Scott in to rescue him? Sadly, after his escape, his beloved wife and two small children were apprehended, tried, and summarily executed as traitors.

Still, there was something else about him that I suspected as well. It had to do with his wushu prowess and abilities. Using the best of my deductive ability, I believed he had once fought in the World Junior Kumite Championship himself and he had won it. He had once won the golden sash! However, when the communists arrested him they had confiscated it along with all the rest of his cherished mementos and possessions. That's why his hope and dream had been for one of his own students to someday win it and why I believed he was now silently grieving as he saw his opportunity vanishing before his eyes.

In his native Korean Ryu now began to taunt and insult both Steven and my Sifu. I understood what he was saying because Scott had taught this language to me. The tournament officials began to make their way up to the platform. I was now infuriated with Ryu and his dishonorable and insolent behavior toward my colleagues. I hated all that he represented while at the same time, I felt deeply saddened for my teacher.

Does the participant from the Lu Tang Academy of Wushu forfeit to his opponent? one of the officials asked, addressing my teacher.

Sifu Lu Tang slowly nodded his head yes.

Then I declare the winner of this tournament to be—

I invoke my right and proclaim the Open Championship! cried Ryu suddenly.

I could not believe it and the crowd couldn't either! The North Korean team of officials began glancing around at each other nervously. All at once the arena was filled with whisperings. Ryu had just appealed for the Open Championship. I had heard that only once before in the history of this event had such a right been declared. What Ryu had now in effect done was to allow any registered combatant to come up and fight him whether he had qualified to advance to the final round or not. Even previously defeated contestants could once again face him. It was now a single elimination contest—winner takes all. If you could beat him, the golden sash would be yours to claim. And it was pure brazen arrogance and pride that had made Ryu do it, because he knew for certain that no one would take him up on the challenge.

Are there any combatants who will face Yong-Sun Ryu in the Open Championship? excitedly asked the head official while addressing the crowd. Such a question had not been asked in over 150 years!

There was no response. The official with an expression of disappointment nodded his head in a concessionary way. The rest of the officials began to make their way up to the platform with one of them carrying the golden sash. I glanced at it and then over at my teacher. I could see the look in his eyes as he gazed at it and I knew for certain; he had indeed once possessed it.

I WILL FIGHT HIM! I shouted.

There was an immediate silence as heads turned while straining to see where the challenge had come from. I stood up and again shouted, I WILL FIGHT YONG-SUN RYU FOR THE GOLDEN SASH! I began to make my way down to the platform. There were now loud murmurings from the crowd of spectators and I could see Sifu Lu Tang rapidly making his way in my direction. I approached the dais and the head official looked down at me and asked, Who are you?

My name is Rock, Lance Rock, and I am a student at the Lu Tang Wushu Academy.

I do not see your name on the registry, he replied while scanning his clipboard.

His name is not registered, said Sifu Lu Tang while now by my side, And he will not fight.

Let no one's heart fail on account of him, sifu, I quietly remarked while gazing up at Ryu. I will defeat this biochemically enhanced aberration and I will restore your honor as well as win you the golden sash.

You cannot defeat him, Lance. You are but a youth and he is—

Who is your best Bagua Zhang student, sifu? I challenged—disrespectfully cutting him off.

He stared at me for a moment and then a look of understanding came into his eyes. I give my consent for him to fight, he remarked to the head official.

He does not have a signed permission slip, the official replied.

The boy has no father. I will sign it as his guardian.

The official nodded his head in approval and turned to Ryu.

Will you fight this opponent? he asked while pointing down at me.

No, said one of the North Korean representatives. This opponent has not registered in time. He has not met the qualifications for the event. You have won, he said to Ryu. Take your prize and let us go. Ryu looked at me, and then turned to follow his coach.

"Just like a good little puppy, I sarcastically remarked to him in Korean, But where is your collar and leash?"

Ryu stopped, turned around, and then glared at me. I will fight him, he said to the head official. I will kill you, he said to me.

***

I knelt in one corner of the platform with closed eyes, focusing my mind while trying to go into combat mode like Scott had taught me. Combat mode, like Spiderman's spider sense, was a state of mind that heightened my perception and analysis of my environment and that required all of my concentration. This wasn't easy while listening to the pacing of my opponent as he waited for the gong to sound which would signal the start of the match. I thought about Sifu Lu Tang's final exhortation to me; Fight cautiously and courageously, and the look in his eyes as he said it. However, it would require more than just caution and courage to defeat this terminator. Fortunately, I had been taught Bagua Zhang by my teacher and I, more than any of his other students, excelled at it. This kung fu style with its twisting, turning, and spinning movements would keep Ryu off balance as he attempted to strike me. With my speed, trying to hit me was going to be like trying to punch and kick a runaway balloon. Also, I was in the foundational stages of Iron Vest and Iron Palm training. Both my torso and hands were being conditioned and hardened to withstand blows. Finally, I had been carefully observing all of Ryu's matches and I had detected a pattern; a pattern of the two moves he favored the most. He preferred using the tornado kick as the initial take-down strike which was always followed up by the ax kick as the finishing blow.

The gong sounded and I stood up. Ryu and I advanced toward each other. We bowed to the referee and then to each other. The referee uttered the battle cry and the fight commenced. For the next minute or so I did my best to evade his strikes. His speed was astounding and several times his fists and feet missed contacting me by mere millimeters. Feeling the rush of air as the blows zipped by was an unnerving sensation. I knew however, that I would not be able to dodge him forever. My plan was to strike him during his finishing move—the ax kick. This kick would require him to raise a leg 90 degrees in a vertical position and then bring it down hard and fast where his foot, like an ax head, destroyed whatever it hit. Of course, the major caveat in my strategy was that I was going to have to let him strike me with the tornado kick first. If I endured that, then I could counter attack. Could I survive this kick? No one yet had.

It was time to try. I sensed he was going to use it and I slowed my speed down. I focused my breathing and as the kick came toward me, I reeled back at the same time. His foot struck me in the chest while knocking the wind out of me and hurling me back halfway across the platform! I gasped in shock. Never before had I taken such a hard blow. If it weren't for my Iron Vest training, my ribs would have been shattered like safety glass. As it was now, several were bruised, possibly severely. I tried to painfully regain air into my lungs as Ryu gingerly, yet confidently strode across the platform to finish me off. He glared down at me with a sinister smile on his face and then slowly raised his leg while savoring the kill. I saw my chance and I took it. Like a springing panther, I launched my fist straight and true at his groin. With every ounce of strength, with the weight of my 160 pound frame behind it, with every fiber of my being, I struck him. It was up until this time, the hardest punch I had ever thrown.

My hardened knuckles came into contact with the illegal jock-strap he had been secretly wearing, much to my surprise, and shattered the cup! Continuing forward, the momentum of my punch drove the jagged shards of his destroyed jock into the soft, vulnerable flesh it had been protecting while rupturing and shredding it. The force of my blow sent him sprawling five feet backwards across the dais. The pain that he experienced was so great, so overwhelming, that his brain could not handle it. He lay on the floor shaking spasmodically until his eyes rolled back into his head and he went comatose.

Suddenly, there was such a loud roar from the crowd of spectators that it terrified me! Pandemonium broke out in the arena. People rushed toward the platform, picked me up, and then carried me around while chanting my name. Only when the officials pleaded for calm with continual shouts over the ring microphone did the chaos finally subside. The golden sash was brought up to the platform as the spectators who had been carrying me gently put me down. As I tenderly rubbed my aching ribs, I saw out of the corner of my eye, Ryu's bloodied, unconscious body being carried off by the enraged North Korean representatives. I also saw my teacher standing next to the official holding my prize. This man, without a word, bowed and handed it to me. I returned his bow while taking it. I then turned and bowed to my teacher. He in turn, returned my bow. Next, while getting on one knee, I humbly offered the golden sash to him. Sifu, this rightfully and deservedly belongs to you, and I want you to have it. Please honor me by accepting it.

"You have just honored me," he replied while taking it out of my hands as I saw an expression of immense joy come over his face and I watched as the single tear that ran out of the corner of his right eye, rolled down his cheek.

Chapter 2

I lay on Teri’s bed while gazing at the glint of sunlight being reflected off the diamond in the white gold key that was dangling from the chain in my hand; the piece of jewelry that had just prompted my previous memory flashback. I had given the golden sash to my teacher out of love for him. The key of gold that I was now holding had been given to me out of love by Shannon Muller. Shannon Ursula Muller; a 17 year old American blue-eyed blonde; so gorgeous, so perfect in face and form that she had attained the nickname goddess by just about every guy in the high school we were attending. In addition to her incredible physical looks however, she possessed a matching inner beauty that also rendered her totally desirable in my eyes as well. Shannon was intelligent, kind, caring and creative. And this girl, this goddess, was in love with me, as I was in love with her. Every guy desired her, but she belonged to me. Yet paradoxically, she didn't. I had given another girl, Reina Kobayashi, my word of honor to forfeit my love for Shannon in exchange for my freedom. Reina, the strikingly beautiful Japanese foreign exchange student, kunoichi (or female ninja) and former associate of the Japanese criminal organization known as the yakuza, was infatuated with me. She had captured me and had given me three conditions for my release—one of them being to relinquish my love for Shannon. Reina hoped that in time my love for Shannon would die and I would turn my affection toward her. She was wrong. I had fallen in love with Shannon from the moment I had first seen a photograph of her. Those feelings had only grown in intensity during the two weeks I had been staying down here in her house in Santa Barbara. Being unable to express my love for Shannon had only caused my feelings for her to intensify. But it was also tearing me apart emotionally, as it was doing the same to her.

The fact of the matter was that all four of us; Shannon, her sister AJ, her mother Stacy, and I had been suffering from sleep deprivation ever since my rescue of them from the clutches of Gunther Muller—Stacy's crime lord ex-husband who had been terrorizing them for over a decade. The Muller's had been pushed to their emotional breaking points by the trauma of the abduction. They had also been heartbroken by the revelation that Teri, Stacy's eldest daughter who had been presumed dead, was actually alive and in league with her father.

I sighed deeply while musing on all of this. We would soon be leaving for the police station. The Santa Barbara law enforcement authorities wanted to question me about my side of the events that had transpired that fateful Saturday evening when Daitaro, (Reina's older brother and the head of the Kobayashi clan of the yakuza) on a mission of katakiuchi (or revenge) against Gunther, had tried to kidnap Stacy and her daughters. This produced another dilemma. I had also given Reina my word that I would protect her identity. Revealing to the police anything related to the yakuza's involvement at Shannon's ex-boyfriend's estate that Saturday evening would naturally incriminate Reina. This would lead to her arrest and probable deportation back to Japan; a sure death sentence for her because her brother had vowed to kill her for her betrayal of them and for what was considered to be her dishonorable behavior toward her family. I was going to have to fake selective amnesia to the police in order not to disclose what I knew. I didn't like it, but I had given Reina my word of honor. My word was a promise that I would not break and a code that I lived by and that defined me.

My musing was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Come in, I said as I slowly sat up on the side of the bed. Shannon cautiously entered the room. I quickly hid her key and neck chain in the palm of my right hand. She did not look well. Even the cover-up make up that she had applied on her face could not completely conceal the dark circles under her eyes—the result of several sleepless nights.

What's, ah, up? I asked.

I… I want to apologize to you. I want to ask for your… forgiveness, she softly replied.

Forgiveness? For… what?

For whatever it is that I've done to make you angry and upset with me.

You haven't done anything to make me angry or upset.

Lance, you stay in this room all day and only come out when you have to. When you do come out, you deliberately go out of your way to avoid me. Neither will you sit with me at the dinner table. Tears formed in her eyes and her voice began to break. "Lance, what...what have I done... to cause you… to hate me?"

I stood up, walked over to her, and then softly grasped her shoulders. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting toward you. I don't hate you at all. Neither