by Adam Wallace
‘I won’t be alone, Mum. All the other knights will be there and you will be in my heart. I lost you once. I will not lose you again.’
He hugged his mum, turned, mounted Lightning and rode towards the town centre. His mother watched him go, wanting to scream out to him to come back, hoping with all her heart that she would see him again soon.
The battle had begun, and it wasn’t going well for the home team. They were being smashed. Sir Kewlar was ignoring the battle and simply eating someone’s arm.
The King and his knights, guardians of the town, pressed forward, protecting the townsfolk as they were sworn to do. They fought well, but the zombie knights had momentum, and the number of good knights was dwindling.
Larson Smithers, to the surprise of many, including himself, fought well. He was petrified, but still he fought. He wanted to redeem himself for the last time he had faced the zombie knights, and the weakness he had shown. Although he was mean-spirited, he did have heart, and he did dream of one day being a great knight. Unfortunately, when he was knocked to the ground from behind and a zombie knight stood over him, ready to strike, it seemed as though his dream would remain just that.
Sir Pete McGee reached the edge of the town square when he saw Smithers go down. Here it was. His great enemy was on the ground. A Black Knight stood over him.
No way!
Aside from the fact that Pete would never turn his back on anyone, even his worst enemy, Smithers wasn’t going to die before they had a wrestling re-match. He roared and spurred Lightning on.
Smithers closed his eyes. He heard a battle cry and assumed it was the Black Knight preparing for the kill.
There was a sickening thud and a grunt.
Smithers opened one eye. He realised that if he could do that he must still be alive. He tried the other eye. It worked too! He focused on the person above him. It wasn’t a fat zombie! It was Pete McGee, holding out his hand. Smithers stared at it.
‘Why?’ he asked, his voice a whisper.
‘Because a knight must do what is right, even when that doth mean saving some dork whose company he doth not enjoy,’ Pete answered, a determined smile on his face. He still held out his hand. ‘We fight together, Smithers. You and I. We fight together.’
Smithers took Pete’s hand and stood. He couldn’t believe someone would act in such a way after all he had done to them. He swore then and there to himself that it was over. He swore then and there to himself that he would no longer try to drag Pete McGee down. He swore then and there out loud because some zombie knights had spotted them and were closing in.
Sir Pete McGee nodded at Sir Larson Smithers and drew his dagger. Larson also nodded and spun around, broadsword drawn. Now it was time to see how they worked as a team.
‘Lightning!’ Pete cried. ‘See if Ashlyn and Marloynne are in the castle. If they are, get them out of there. GO!’
Lightning neighed in response then turned and ran, smashing through zombies as he went, slowing their progress, sending a few limbs flying. The good knights cheered and renewed their attack, going on the offensive now, pressing forward. Sir Charge would not be denied though. He fought like the crazed, power-hungry, brain-eating, zombie madman he was, and soon the momentum changed again.
Pete McGee and Larson Smithers were also on the attack. Pete’s pack lay on the ground by the fountain in the middle of the town square. No-one but he knew the flower lay inside it. The two former enemies were side by side, fighting almost as one. Pete swung his dagger left and right, no zombie able to get near him. His arm was tiring, but he would not allow it to slow. Smithers held his heavy sword in two hands, and he used it well. For all his faults, he was certainly a skilled fighter.
The Black Knights, however, would not die. No matter what. Pete and Larson faced three of them. Overall the numbers were now pretty much even.
‘How do we kill them, McGee?’ Larson said through gritted teeth as he stopped another attack by Sir Myse, sending the zombie knight’s sword flying. Unfortunately Sir Plyer appeared immediately to hand Sir Myse another sword. That sucked.
‘I don’t know,’ Pete replied, sheathing his dagger and then shooting arrow after arrow into the zombie knights. It slowed them down, but that was all. The three Black Knights would just shake it off, do something gross, and attack again.
Then it wasn’t three Black Knights, it was four.
Then five.
Pete and Smithers were getting seriously outnumbered. The zombie knights closed in. Sir Charge moved into the circle around the two young men. He rolled his eyes when he saw Pete.
‘You again, boy? I said before you were nothing, why doth thou not believe me? Let this go. If thou doth not know the flower’s location, then be gone. Thou art wasting time and Sir Pryse’s arm has been cut off three times. He is not happy!’
Pete stood tall.
‘I will not back down from thee. I am Sir Pete McGee, a brave and noble knight, and thou art naught but a smelly ghost of some sort. I will defeat thee. I will defeat all if need be.’
Smithers moved to Pete’s side, shoulder-to-shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Me too. Like he said. Except I am Sir Larson Smithers.’
Pete looked at Smithers, who smiled, realising that the qualities he had taught himself to despise about Pete were the ones that actually made him great. He also knew that they worked much better as a team than as enemies. Sir Charge sighed.
‘Truly, this is a touching event. Very well, as thou wisheth.’
The six zombie knights moved in, swords at the ready. The other six were still battling the town knights, and were wearing them down. Zombies don’t fatigue as quickly as men do.
‘By the beard of Merlin,’ Sir Charge suddenly cried. ‘Someone important to thee needs thy help!’
It was a poor attempt at trickery, but it worked. Pete and Smithers instinctively looked where Sir Charge pointed. Suddenly, Pete’s legs were swept from underneath him and he fell to the ground, a cheap shot from behind doing the trick. The voice of Sir Mountable flashed into Pete’s thoughts … Evil will cheat. Evil will be sneaky. It didn’t do him much good now. The Black Knights cheered and two of them leapt towards Pete.
‘NOOOOO!’ Smithers cried, leaping to stand over his battle partner and slicing through the zombies with one swing of his sword. His selfless deed had exposed his back, however, and a sword flashed towards it. As it was about to strike, another sword flashed and stopped it in a crash of metal, sparks flying. Sir Charge looked around and was amazed to see that his blow had been halted by none other than Sir Vyvor.
‘You!’ snarled Sir Charge. ‘Traitorous fiend.’
‘Thou did not fight fairly,’ Sir Vyvor said calmly. ‘Thou has never fought fairly. ’Tis time to even the odds. ’Tis time for me to take a stand for what I doth truly believe in. I will not follow you any more.’
‘Then thou shalt die … again.’
Sir Charge roared, and the battle was joined in earnest. Sir Vyvor and Sir Charge were evenly matched, skill-wise, but Sir Charge did not fight by the rules, which gave him an advantage.
‘Two deaths,’ Sir Vyvor roared as he fought. ‘Two deaths, young men. The head must be removed and the heart must be destroyed within five counts. That is how we die.’
‘That is how you die!’ Sir Charge screamed, blind with fury. He unleashed a vicious assault on his former comrade, driving him back. The other zombie knights, distracted, headed towards the showdown. Pete stood up, clear of an attack now. He looked at Smithers.
‘You heard?’ he asked. Smithers nodded.
‘Two deaths, McGee. Looks like we’ve got some heads to chop. But the five counts. Is it like one, two, three, four, five, or one Mississippi, two Mississippi, … ?’
Pete rolled his eyes.
‘I don’t think we should count at all. Let’s just do both things as close to each other as possible. Deal?’
Smithers nodded.
‘Deal.’
Pete picked up a swor
d from a fallen knight and roared. Smithers held his sword out in front of him and roared. (A lion also roared, but it was too far away for anyone to hear.) It was game on!
ete and Smithers cut a swathe through the zombie knights. They had the advantage of the zombies being
distracted by the fight between Sir Vyvor and Sir Charge, and they took advantage of that advantage.
First to go was Sir Pryse.
‘What the …?’ he cried out just as his head was about to be severed.
‘Woah dude, verily not gnarly,’ was all Sir Fing could say, one sword piercing his heart as another chopped off his head.
Sir Kewlar fought well, but was smashed off guard by a mighty steed, returned to battle after following orders. Lightning would not let Pete fight alone. Once on the ground, Sir Kewlar was made short work of.
The rest of the knights went quickly, although by the time there were only five left, the surprise advantage was gone. Pete and Larson faced Sir Plus, Sir Kemspect and Sir Lee. Sir Vyvor and Sir Charge continued their own private battle.
‘Verily, this be too much,’ Sir Lee grumbled as he walked away. ‘’Tis time for rest. Dying is truly stupid, and I have experienced it once already. They chopped off my head then too.’
He went and sat by the fountain, still grumbling away. He sat next to Pete’s bag and, being naturally nosy, he opened it and pulled out the Wilderene Flower.
‘Sir Charge,’ he called out. ‘Is this the weed thou searcheth for?’
‘I am rather busy,’ Sir Charge called out, Sir Vyvor pressing him back. ‘Please describe it, oh grumpy one.’
‘It doth look like a weed, the flower is yellow, the stalk is well thorned and … OW!’
Sir Lee had pricked his finger on one of the thorns. It dug into what flesh he had left, slicing into his blood.
‘Verily. I did expect this,’ Sir Lee said, shaking his head. He stopped breathing and started choking from the inside out. His eyes went wide, looking like they would pop out of his head, a head which suddenly, well, exploded. Larson Smithers yelled out and ran over to drive his sword through the dead zombie knight’s heart, finishing him off.
Everyone had seen what had happened. The fallen knights. Pete and Larson. Sir Charge and Sir Vyvor. Now the race was on for the flower, which lay next to Sir Lee’s body. Smithers picked it up and held it proudly.
‘I have it!’ he cried before he was thudded into by Sir Plus. The flower flew into the air and was caught by Sir Kemspect, who held it very tentatively, wary of its power.
‘No!’ he cried, ‘I doth have it.’
Then he was thudded into by none other than the King himself. King Rayon was badly wounded, but he would not let the flower be won by the evil ones. He would protect his town to the end. Sir Kemspect fell to the ground and Pete and Smithers leapt upon him, protecting their King.
Sir Charge roared. He knocked Sir Vyvor down and flew towards the King, who was looking the other way. Pete leapt to intercept the head zombie. He too was knocked down, hard, but the bump he had delivered threw Sir Charge off his course. It also knocked a small bit of rotten flesh off Sir Charge’s face. The bit of flesh flew through the air, almost in slow motion. The King turned around at the noise of Pete and Sir Charge impacting. He saw the bit of flesh flying right for his face.
‘Nooooooooooooooooo!’ he cried out, mouth open wide. That was a bad move. The flesh headed straight for his open mouth. The King, by reflex alone, thrust up the Wilderene Flower to protect himself. That was a good move. The piece of flesh struck the stalk and impaled itself on one of the thorns. The piece of flesh contained Sir Charge’s blood. Sir Charge stopped mid-stride and, well, you know the rest. (Yep, exploding head time!)
Sir Plus watched, stunned. He threw up his hands in despair.
‘Always,’ he said. ‘Always it is I that is last, tacked on the end. Verily, I shall not give thee the satisfaction! So there!’
And with that he stuck out his tongue (not the most knightly of gestures), took the flower off the King, stabbed his finger onto one of the thorns, and waited for his head to explode. But nothing happened. He looked at the flower. He looked at his finger. He realised he had stabbed one of the fingers that was just bone, no flesh. He smiled and held up a please wait hand to the others. He peeled a nice chunk of rotting flesh off his neck, held it up, this time for sure, and stabbed it onto one of the thorns. Badda bing, badda boom, exploding head!
It was over.
Pete still lay on the ground, where he had been since he had charged into Sir Charge. He looked up and saw Smithers standing above him, hand outstretched. Pete took it and stood. Smithers still held his hand and looked him directly in the eye.
‘You fight alright for a one-armed freak, McGee,’ he said. Pete was ready to fight back with a response when he realised Smithers had a smile on his face, a genuine smile.
‘You saved my life,’ Pete said.
Smithers nodded.
‘We go alright as a team, McGee, which surprises me more than anything you can imagine. I think we’ll still stir each other up, but I’ll say this. You can be my back-up knight any time.’
Pete smiled and shook his head.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘You can be mine.’
Smithers looked a little shocked and then he threw back his head and laughed. He patted Pete on the shoulder and they turned their attention to their King.
King Rayon was standing, surveying his town, as he had done in Pete’s vision. Only this time it was different. This time they had won. There were no more zombie knights.
xcept for Sir Vyvor.
The one remaining knight of the Order of Black Knights stood alone. He looked up and saw that the King, Pete and Larson had approached and now stood in front of him. Behind them the townsfolk were starting to emerge from their homes, and doctors and healers were tending to the wounded knights. Sir Vyvor was ready for the worst.
‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘I apologise for the actions of my order. I accept thy punishment. I am prepared to die.’
The King nodded, thinking.
‘You showed the values of a true knight today. What is your name?’
‘Sir Vyvor, Your Majesty.’
‘You are that indeed, and who am I to go against it? You shall not die today. You are a fine knight and an honour to all knights before and after you.’
Sir Vyvor bowed low in thanks.
‘Your Majesty.’
The King continued.
‘Why is it you rode with these knights? What was your purpose?’
Sir Vyvor recounted the reason for the Black Knights’ search for the Wilderene Flower. He told of his own reasons for wanting the flower, that he would do as Arlyle Motain had planned. The King listened.
‘It seems, Sir Vyvor, that your motives are genuine. It seems that you wish for the flower to remain safe from evil. It is for this reason, with the permission of the flower’s current owner, that I wish for you to return the flower to the Great Oak as is your destiny.’
‘Well,’ Pete said, ‘I had thought I would take it to Bandragon …’
King Rayon turned, eyebrows raised.
‘But of course,’ Pete continued, quickly rethinking things, ‘of course, you showed valour and skill and were great and all of that. You should take it. Please. I want you to have it.’
‘Very well then,’ King Rayon announced. ‘You shall return the flower to the oak, and you shall guard it henceforth.’
He handed the Wilderene Flower to Sir Vyvor, who took it very carefully. He looked at it and breathed in its scent deeply. After he did so, his black armour turned the purest white, and suddenly he no longer looked like a zombie. He had been returned to his original state, strong and proud, whole once more. He was also surrounded by eleven other knights on horseback, honourable white zombie knights, pure of heart.
‘We shall honour this agreement,’ Sir Vyvor said proudly. ‘These knights and I doth be a new order. An ageless order of knights dedicated to pro
tecting the Wilderene Flower.’
He glanced at Pete.
‘I know thee. I have seen thee fight twice now. Thou doth fight with honour and bravery, young one. Thou also did not wish to keep the flower for thyself, for thine own gains. Thus, it doth seem thou should be rewarded in some way. Oftentimes, those created by the flower’s creator doth receive a little extra.’
With that he breathed in deeply from the flower once again, before smiling at Pete.
‘That wish was for thee, young knight. It shall come to fruition in time.’
Pete nodded. He had no idea what a zombie knight could possibly wish for him. Sir Vyvor wrapped the Wilderene Flower in the towel Sir Plyer had given him the previous week. He was going to miss Sir Plyer. That guy was very handy when it came to getting things. Sir Vyvor mounted his zombie horse, assembled his order, and they rode off. Their mission to protect the Wilderene Flower had begun.
ing Rayon had recovered from his wounds, as had the other surviving knights. (Well, most had recovered. Two had been bitten but had survived, meaning they had been infected and had turned into zombies themselves. Those two had been, well, killed. But the others were much better now, thankyou very much.)
Training had recommenced for the young knights. Those who had lost their mentors were still allowed to train, which meant some of the knights trained three or more young squires.
Pete McGee also trained in the castle. His training with Sir Mountable held him in good stead, but still he learnt new skills and continued to grow stronger. His friendship with Larson Smithers also grew. Although Smithers was a year ahead, he and Pete often trained together in extra sessions. Smithers had proven himself a valuable ally on the battlefield, and now that his teasing and bullying days seemed to be behind him, he was actually a kind of nice guy.
This pleased Pete immensely. Smithers was on his side now, a different person and a good friend.
After finishing training for the week, Pete rode Lightning home. His mum was waiting out the front when he got there, as were Marloynne and Ashlyn.
