by Adam Wallace
‘Your horse must shine,’ Sir Mountable announced, stroking the newly washed horse’s fur that afternoon. ‘He is a major part of your entire image as a knight.
I know I said image is not important, and in real terms it is not. But on a superficial level, how you look can strike fear into those who wish to defeat you. You must carry yourself with confidence, and your steed must do the same.’
With that Horsey Horse Horse puffed out his chest and trotted around the yard, making Pete and Sir Mountable laugh.
‘Call him over,’ the old man said.
Pete hesitated.
‘Here. Come here,’ he called.
‘The horse’s name,’ Sir Mountable said gruffly, ‘always use the horse’s name.’
Pete hesitated again. Oh man, this was going to be embarrassing. He breathed deep, let the air out, and then called his horse.
‘Here Horsey Horse Horse,’ he said in a weak voice. Sir Mountable slapped his forehead.
‘No no no no no,’ he said. ‘The horse has lightning on its forehead. It is a fast, fast horse. Surely you can do better than Horsey Horse Horse?’
‘Quick Sticks?’ Pete asked.
‘No.’
‘Speedy?’
‘No.’
‘Fast running horse?’
‘They’re getting worse.’
‘Rushes?’
‘NO!!!’
‘Lightning Head?’
‘Lightning! Your horse’s name is Lightning!’
And so Pete McGee’s gallant steed was given a name.
‘And now,’ Sir Mountable continued. ‘That bucket. Carry it to the town centre, fill it at the well, return, water the garden, revisit the well, and continue until I tell you to cease.’
‘But you have a tap right here,’ Pete said. ‘I used it this morning.’
‘Do not doubt my orders. Understand? Discipline is a key. Discipline of your mind and body. Now. To town.’
Pete nodded and walked off with the bucket, wondering why it was he had just done chores all day for Sir Mountable when he wanted to be trained as a knight. Still, it was step one. Maybe real training would start the next day.
The next day, Pete was so sore he could barely move. All the cleaning and scrubbing and grass-cutting and animal-washing and walking into town and back with a bucket full of water (which he couldn’t pass from one hand to the other because there was no other hand) had left him with tired legs and a shoulder that felt like it had been pummelled with a sledgehammer.
He arrived at Sir Mountable’s house feeling very sorry for himself, and moving like the slowest snail in the herd (or whatever a group of snails is called). Sir Mountable was again ready for Pete when he opened the door, and once more the sword found its way to Pete’s neck.
‘Be ready, boy.’
‘Dude, I can barely move, let alone react.’
‘Good,’ Sir Mountable said, sheathing his sword. ‘Now, we start again. Once you are moving the pain will disappear. You will be fine. Come.’
He walked outside. Pete followed him slowly … very slowly. Sir Mountable stood at the boundary of his property beside a pile of bricks.
‘I need a fence, boy. First we carry these bricks and lay them out ready to build. Then we stack them. Then we build a brick fence.’
‘We?’ Pete asked.
‘Yes … well you. I will supervise and help when needed.’
Pete did the entire fence himself.
He carried all the bricks and laid them out as requested. Sir Mountable then showed him how to construct the fence using specially mixed cement that Pete had to stir to a thick consistency, leaving his arm like jelly afterwards.
Then Pete lifted and stacked and cemented and smoothed the entire fence, while Sir Mountable had Lightning running and jumping and stopping and doing all sorts of things.
When the fence was finally finished, Sir Mountable ordered Pete to brush Lightning again. Pete did so, although reaching up and brushing with his tired and sore arm was incredibly hard. But he did it, and he did it without complaining. He had said he would not doubt the orders, and so he would not. He didn’t really understand why it mattered if the horse glistened when he couldn’t even ride it, but he kept that to himself. He did have to admit Lightning was looking great after the wash and brush, and the horse was starting to fill out, muscles defining themselves as though in a dictionary. As Pete walked him home, he wondered if he would ever be able to ride his birthday present properly.
he next month was pretty much the same as the first couple of days, although as time went on Pete was not allowed to walk. He had to jog into town. He had to jog from one chore to the next. He had to jog to pick something up, and then jog as he carried it to wherever it was meant to go. Pete lifted and carried and cleaned and ran and built. By the end of the month he was strong, fit and tanned and, just like Lightning, starting to look more like the adult he would become.
Every now and again he would punch Sir Mountable on the arm and was glad to have graduated from, in Sir Mountable’s terms, the power of a dollop of cream to the strength of a three-year-old boy.
At the end of the first month Sir Mountable announced the two would be building a barn. They worked together this time, although Pete did most of the manual labour.
Sir Mountable set challenges, like carrying a certain number of wooden palings in a day, or hammering in a certain number of nails, and Pete would always try and smash the challenge he had been set. At first he wouldn’t get close but again, as time passed, his strength and fitness improved so that he would break Sir Mountable’s goals daily.
Finally, the barn complete, Pete arrived at Sir Mountable’s house one morning after running over with Lightning. He opened the door and laughed out loud when Sir Mountable’s sword thudded into the wooden shield Pete held.
‘Ha! In your face, Sir!’
His gloating was cut short as a dagger pressed against his ribs from the other side, where Sir Mountable stood grinning. Pete glanced at the sword. It was suspended on a rope.
‘Evil will cheat, and evil is sneaky,’ Sir Mountable said. ‘That is a given. But you are getting better. Now. Let us train.’
With that, Pete McGee’s knight-training began in earnest. He was still required to run and build and clean, but along with that he learnt to sword fight, to wrestle, to box, and he learnt how to conduct himself amongst royalty. Every morning he cleaned Sir Mountable’s armour until it gleamed. He also sharpened weapons and he cleaned the barn, inside and out.
He would eat with Sir Mountable each evening, and the knight would tell stories of great knights past, believing Pete needed to know and understand the history of the brotherhood he wished to enter. There were also tales of not-so-great knights, as being a knight brings power, and there are always those who wish to harness that power and use it for their own gain.
After six months of this Pete was becoming a man. His mother barely recognised him any more. Her little boy! Pete would wrestle with Marloynne for fun, and was able to hold his own now, using his newly-gained strength and skills.
There were only two things that distressed Pete. The first was that he had not been allowed to even try to mount Lightning, and the second was that he really wanted to learn how to use a bow and arrow.
King Rayon had been pleased by reports that Sir Mountable was training Pete McGee, even though training of a banished squire was not permitted. King Rayon knew Sir Mountable well, and he knew that the old knight would bring out and develop the skills and heart that Pete McGee already possessed.
So the King had no doubts that letting the secret training continue was the right thing to do. If someone discovered them he would take care of it, as a King must. For now though, he felt like eating a royal scone. So he went and had one, because he was the King and that is what Kings do.
The Black Knights were on the march. Everything about them was now black … almost. Only Sir Vyvor stood alone, unwilling to accept what the others had become. He continuall
y tried to convince them to turn back, to return to the side of good, but they were too far gone.
They marched from town to town. At first Sir Charge would ask for knowledge of the Wilderene Flower’s whereabouts, and when he was not given a satisfactory answer, he would signal the other zombies to do what zombies do best … make weird grunty groany noises then kill people and eat their brains.
After a few villages he tired of asking. He would simply ride to the centre of town, yell something about a flower, and then signal. The Black Knights killed and they stole, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. They still looked disgusting, although eating so many brains and so much flesh was actually making them look like healthy zombies, if there is such a thing. Well, you know, their eyes were still hanging by a thread, if at all. Their bones stuck out from under their armour. They had worms for company the whole way, and little bugs that would eat whatever flesh grew on their bones.
Which brings us to their flesh. Their rotting flesh smelled like, well, rotting flesh. That pretty much sums it up. But they were getting a little hair on their heads, and some of them used glue to stick their eyeballs in place.
The thing about the zombie knights is that they seemed pretty much unkillable. No town that fought back could inflict any damage on them. If they chopped off an arm, it would crawl back and join the body. Or worse, it would keep on fighting all by itself! Eyes would be picked up and put back in. Even heads would be picked up and put back on if they were chopped off. It seemed that nothing could stop Sir Charge and his order of Black Knights. It seemed as though they would fulfil their zombie dreams.
Pete’s fifteenth birthday was approaching. Sir Mountable knew it was coming, as Pete had mentioned it once or a hundred times. They had been working together for nearly nine months now, and the boy’s progress had been remarkable. Sir Mountable found Pete’s work ethic, enthusiasm and dedication contagious, and was starting to feel alive like he hadn’t in a long, long time. At least, not since … Sir Mountable banished the thought from his mind with a grunt.
He worked with Pete on the barn and also engaged in sparring with the boy. He rode and trained Lightning while Pete worked. He told stories and passed on his philosophies.
He also spent a lot of time on his own, working on a project he knew would please the boy. He just hoped it would be completed on time.
Mrs McGee was also working on a birthday surprise for Pete. She didn’t see him all that often anymore, with all the training he was doing. And when he did get home he was usually so exhausted he would just fall into bed.
But she made sure to get up early every morning so they could talk before he left, and she cherished every single one of those mornings with her son. She hoped beyond hope that this would all lead somewhere, but she knew it already had. The added confidence, the way he carried himself, how strong and grown-up he now looked … it had all been worth it no matter what happened from here on in.
In terms of his birthday, it wasn’t easy working on that. He was no longer a boy, so a party with games was out, and he didn’t know a lot of people his own age anyway. There were the twins he had met in Bandragon that he still talked about, and who he still corresponded with via letters, but that was it. She smiled. She had sent the twins a letter of her own.
Pete and his mum did have one tradition whereby he would choose what he wanted for his birthday meal. Mrs McGee would always cook that exact meal, although in the years leading up to her ‘death’ he had been the one to cook anyway, as she barely had the energy to get out of bed.
She smiled, remembering the birthday meal Pete always chose. Vegetables, gravy and bread. It was all they were able to afford most years, but he would choose it and eat it as though it was the most wonderful meal he could possibly have. She knew he would choose it again this year, but with more money in the household, she wanted to surprise him with something different. That, and the other surprise, would be her present to him.
Pete sat on the fence, Lightning’s head resting against his leg. He stroked the horse’s mane absentmindedly.
‘It’s almost time, Lightning,’ he murmured. ‘Those other knights, they’ll be having their end of year showing. They’ll be cheered and adored and called the next big thing in knighthood. Blah blah blah.’
Lightning, sensing Pete’s annoyance, snorted out hot air. Pete laughed.
‘We don’t need that, do we boy? Hey? We’ll cheer ourselves. Woo! Go us!’
Lightning snorted again and trotted around the yard like a dressage horse. He pranced over to Pete and bowed low. Pete jumped off the fence and bowed to the horse, who stayed down.
Pete hesitated.
It was like an offer, and one he didn’t want to pass up. He walked over to Lightning, who was still bowing, glancing up at Pete through one eye. Pete tentatively swung his leg over the lower section of Lightning’s neck. The horse suddenly stood up, making Pete gasp and grab onto the mane. It was only when he remembered to breathe again that he realised he was doing it. He was on Lightning! He was riding a horse! Well, he was sitting on a horse that wasn’t moving, but that was a start, right? He yelled out and swung his arm in the air. Lightning got excited too, whinnying and rearing up on his two back legs. Unfortunately, Pete waving his arm in the air and Lightning up on two legs meant Lightning was soon back on four legs and Pete was on his butt in the dirt. Still, it was a start!
he day before his fifteenth birthday, Pete McGee and Sir Mountable didn’t train at the knight’s house. Instead, Sir Mountable suggested they get away for a change of scenery. Pete thought it was a great idea, until he wandered outside and realised there was another horse next to Lightning. Sir Mountable went up to it and jumped aboard, while Pete watched in horror.
‘This is on loan from a good friend of mine,’ Sir Mountable said, looking almost more at home up on the horse than on solid ground. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile as he addressed Pete.
‘Well, go on. Up on your horse.’
Pete nodded, hiding his fear. He walked over to Lightning and stroked his horse on the nose.
‘Okay boy,’ he whispered, ‘Let’s not look too stupid here.’
He bowed low to the horse and, to Pete’s amazement, Lightning bowed back, just like he had the other day. With a sigh of relief Pete hooked a leg over Lightning’s neck. This time the horse stood up slowly and Pete did not cheer or whoop or anything. He just sat there smiling at Sir Mountable.
‘Right, boy,’ Sir Mountable said. ‘Let’s gallop.’
Ohhhhhhhhhhh no. Pete hadn’t thought past getting onto Lightning, and he had no time to think now as Sir Mountable dug his knees into the side of his horse and was off. Pete held onto Lightning’s mane and breathed deep.
‘Okay Lightning, let’s catch that old man. YAH!’
With his cry he dug his own knees into Lightning’s side and the horse took off at great speed, catching up to Sir Mountable in no time, flying right past him in fact. There was just one problem. Pete was on his butt in the dirt back at the house. He stood up and rubbed his bum gingerly. There was nothing to do but head in the direction the horses had gone, so that was what he did. It took an hour, but eventually he wandered into a field where the two horses were grazing happily, and Sir Mountable sat under a tree with his eyes closed. Pete walked over to him.
‘Thought you would join us?’ Sir Mountable asked dryly.
Pete did a fake laugh.
‘Ha ha ha ha, oh, ’tis so lucky I put my hand on my head, lest I laughed my head off at your humour.’
Sir Mountable leapt up but Pete was ready for him and blocked the blow. Sir Mountable nodded.
‘Ever ridden a horse before, boy?’ he asked, his voice a little too condescending for Pete’s liking.
‘Yes, of course I have. I mean, no, never.’
He hung his head a little and Sir Mountable pounced, twisting Pete’s arm around and holding it behind his back. Pete had learnt many tricks from Sir Mountable while they had trained, but often the s
implest was the best, so he kicked back into the old man’s unguarded shin. Then, when Sir Mountable let go, Pete swung around and directed a swift kick towards Sir Mountable’s, well, his knightly treasures.
Unfortunately, it seemed knights were prepared for this sort of attack, and Pete’s foot met with armour-plated protection, leaving him hopping around holding his toe. Sir Mountable laughed.
‘Nice try, boy. That is your first lesson for today. Be prepared. Now it is time for you to learn to ride a horse, for a knight is not complete without horse-riding skills.’
For the next five hours Pete was up and down on Lightning … most of the ups were deliberate, not many of the downs were. Luckily the grass in the field was nice and cushy, because Pete’s bony butt wasn’t cushy at all, and he landed on it plenty of times. But, with Lightning’s help and Sir Mountable’s teaching, by the end of the afternoon Pete was pretty good at mounting and dismounting.
Although his bum was aching and he was exhausted, as he rode Lightning at a slow walk back to Sir Mountable’s house, Pete couldn’t have been happier. Another item on the list of becoming a knight had been ticked.
As the two rode away from the field, neither of them noticed a solitary figure watching from a nearby hill. Neither of them realised this would be their second last sort of formal class together. Neither of them realised King Rayon’s hand was about to be forced.
The Black Knights ransacked three more towns in a week. Next in their path was a town called Bandragon. Sir Vyvor was in Sir Charge’s ear again.
‘I know of Bandragon from my past life,’ he said as the order gathered for the night to discuss tactics. ‘Thus, I know what the town stands for. They live with nature. They heal. They are a good people and we must avoid this town. They do not deserve to suffer our attack.’
‘Did any of the towns deserve it?’ Sir Charge asked, scoffing. He drank deeply from a goblet Sir Plyer had picked up in the last town. Sir Kemspect joined in the discussion.
