by Adam Wallace
So get to it. There’s plenty of good reading left to do. Will the King be successful in his quest for invincibility and glory? Will Pete McGee cure his sick mother, restore the love of Ashlyn and Marloynne, and discover the knight within? Or will they all die? There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? So read on, gentle reader. Read on.
ing Cyril the Beaming-Broadly was on top of the world. Things were going so well that he had decided to leave earlier than first planned. He had gathered a group of ten men, himself included, who were ready to take the journey when he was ready. Not a moment sooner, not a moment later.
Marloynne was one of the ten men mentioned. Things had certainly panned out a little differently from what he had expected. He had woken from his bad-breath-induced faint on a bed in one of the guestrooms of the castle, with platters of food laid out before him. He ate and ate and ate, as not only had he never eaten really good food before, he was starving. As soon as the food in front of him was gone, servants would bring more. The only downside was the presence of Faydon, the King’s adviser. Marloynne didn’t like the little rat-man, as he had privately named him, but he had to put up with him. Faydon had said he was there to make sure Marloynne’s needs were catered for. In reality, he was there to make sure that Marloynne entertained no thoughts of escape. Faydon would whisper words of magic as Marloynne ate, twisting his thoughts, twisting them until Marloynne barely even remembered the way things had been. He didn’t care either. He was well fed, he was comfortable, and Faydon had told him they would be going on a journey, all expenses paid of course. Food became Marloynne’s priority. After a while, even the ever-present Faydon couldn’t distract him. Marloynne became oafish, he gained weight, and he became snappy and rude. All the while Faydon was there, removing thoughts of escape, removing memories of Ashlyn.
Meanwhile, the servants who Marloynne had once worked with delivered another meal. Although they had all once been friends as well as co-workers, now Marloynne had turned on them, and they were ordered to treat him as they did royalty. They looked on sadly as Marloynne shovelled the food into his mouth, then recoiled as he spat a piece out. His face contorted into a look of disgust before it changed into an angry glare.
‘Oh, yecchhhh, this is awful. What sort of rubbish are you feeding me? The sushi is cold, for starters, and RAW! Uuuggghhhh, it’s foul. Go and cook it, I will only eat cooked sushi. This caviar, it looks like fish eggs or something. Gross. Take it back and get me the real stuff. You know, that pink dip. And for crying out loud, will you please make some decent little meatballs. These taste shocking.’
One of the servants bowed low and spoke.
‘Beg, um, begging your pardon, Sir, but those aren’t meatballs. They are rats’ testicles, and are considered a delicacy.’
Marloynne picked up two of the rats’ testicles and threw them at the servant, then screamed at him.
‘Delicacy, my butt! Get me a meal with no genitalia involved! I don’t want to eat anything that can’t be shown in a G-rated movie! Get it? No rudey bits from now on!’
The servants took the food and left, bowing low and muttering to themselves. Marloynne continued to eat, doing his own grumbling about the service.
After fully packing his pack with supplies, Pete McGee was ready to go. He was concerned about leaving his mother, but Ashlyn had promised that she would be there. Pete closed the pack and hoisted it over his shoulder.
As he walked outside he passed the Green Book, which was back on the shelf. Pete’s mind raced. He had gathered much information from the book about his journey, but should he take it with him? Would it help him on his quest? His mother had asked him not to take it. Could he disobey her? He took the book off the shelf. It was so light, surely he would barely even notice it was with him. He opened it and heard it sigh once again.
‘Ahhh, Pete McGee, I thought you would be back. Shall we be journeying together? Have you cast aside your doubts? And what about your fear of disobeying your mother?’
Pete stared at the book. It was as though it could see into his brain.
‘I’m not scared of Mum. I’m not. You are.’
Pete stared into space for a second, frowning, thinking, then he looked back down at the book.
‘How do you know I’m scared?’
Pete could almost hear the smile in the book’s voice as it replied.
‘There is much I know, Pete McGee. There is much that I can do to make this quest easier for you. You can’t do this on your own. You need me. We can work together, a great team. The power that I could create by working through you … We would be like … like … ummm, well, like all those other great teams that had two people in them and won everything they did. You know them. Just take me.’
The pages fluttered as the book talked, it was getting so excited. There was something about this that didn’t seem right; something that was gnawing away at Pete, telling him not to take the book. But it was as if he couldn’t control himself. He closed the book, placed it under his arm, and walked outside to gather his thoughts before saying his goodbyes. It was so tempting to just leave, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to his mum. And besides, he would be avoiding the first test of the journey. Pete needed to get through this one, almost as if to prove to himself that he was doing the right thing. But first he needed some space. He walked to the fence and sat on it.
The book lay on Pete’s lap and he tossed over in his mind again and again whether he should take it. It seemed to need the journey, to perform magic, to work through Pete McGee. That bothered him. He was trying to do a good thing and it felt as though, if he took the book along, it would tarnish the quest. Pete would be little more than a vessel, and that wasn’t how it should be. He opened the book.
‘You’re staying here. I must do this without you.’
If the book had had a face, it would have looked extremely shocked and angry. As it was, that was all shown in its voice going up a couple of octaves and decibels.
‘What? No. You can’t do that, it just isn’t right. I need to do this, I haven’t used my magic in so long. I haven’t done anything in so long. I wasn’t even allowed to read about that stupid flower. You don’t know what you’re doing. You can’t leave me here. It can’t be done without me. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t I say!’
Pete slammed the book shut, feeling justified now in his decision not to take it. This was his quest. He would take help, but not in this way. He would take help offered for help’s sake, not from those looking to serve their own needs.
From his knowledge of where the flower was located, Pete had concluded that King Cyril could go only one of two ways. He knew that there was only a remote chance that the King would try to cross the Plains of Obon, but he also knew that King Cyril the Arrogant-and-Stupid was both arrogant and stupid enough to try it. Pete decided to leave straight away in order to be ahead of his rivals before they reached the Plains of Obon. That was where Pete wanted to make his move. If it happened that he also had to cross the plains in order to rescue Marloynne, then so be it.
‘Sir Pete McGee.’
Ashlyn’s voice brought him back to the real world. He smiled at her and jumped off the fence.
As usual, his note was tucked safely away in his inside pocket. He followed Ashlyn into the house and towards his mother’s room. Ashlyn waited outside as Pete went in to say his farewell.
Pete’s voice shook a little as he faced his mother. He readied his voice to play their game for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time.
‘Fair maiden, my departure is nigh. I leave the book with you. I had thought to take it, but it must stay.’
He laid the book on the end of the bed. Mrs McGee watched him as he stood tall once again. Her eyes glistened and her voice trembled.
‘I beg thee, dear knight, travel safely.’
‘I will carry thy heart with me and I shall not endanger it. Fare thee well. I shall have many great tales to relate to thee upon my return.’
They
held each other close, fearing that it may be the final time they would do so, neither of them wanting to believe that could possibly be true. Pete pulled away and walked out of the room.
Ashlyn stared at Pete for an instant before throwing her arms around him. She felt so close to this young boy. In the short time she had known him he already felt like family.
‘You have to come back, Pete, you have to. I could never forgive myself if you didn’t.’
She didn’t say anything else. She just took Pete’s hand and walked towards the front gate. Pete was a little surprised at the strength of Ashlyn’s grip, and when she released his hand he found he was holding a crystal.
‘It’s all I have to give you. It was a gift to me from Marloynne, but I give it to you now. Take it as a reminder of me, but you must promise to return it. In doing so, you are promising your own safe return.’
Pete stared at the crystal. It was amazing. Its surface was a deep brown, with lines of yellow racing through it. The crystal was incredibly smooth against his skin as he turned it over in his hand. He looked up at Ashlyn and nodded.
‘I promise.’
With that he turned, went through the gate, and started off down the road.
ater that same day, King Cyril the Glory-Seeker also departed. Marloynne was with him, sooking about the food as usual. It wasn’t long before the King had had enough.
‘Good God, man, do you ever stop? I really don’t know what that peasant girl ever saw in you.’
Marloynne’s head swung around. Peasant girl?
Something tried to burst forth from his memory but the King saw the change in Marloynne’s eyes and quickly called for Faydon. Faydon directed Marloynne to the horse he was to ride, all the while whispering in his ear, brainwashing him, removing any thoughts of Ashlyn.
Finally King Cyril the 23rd and his men proceeded out of the town gates. Pete McGee’s head start was not great, but he had the advantage of knowing he was not the only one in search of the Wilderene Flower.
While his rivals began their journey on horseback, Pete walked. He actually enjoyed walking, being able to take everything in without having to worry about anything except going forward. After four hours solid though, it was time for a break. The day was a hot one, the sun beating down. Even in the shade Pete was unable to escape the heat. He sat down under a tree by the side of the road and opened his pack. Taking out his flask he drank deeply. The route he had chosen ran alongside the river, so water wasn’t going to be a problem. Food, however, would be sparse later in the journey, and Pete wondered how much he should eat at this early stage.
Putting down his drink, the young traveller looked along the road. A little further down he noticed a roadside trader. Pete packed up his supplies and started walking once more. Upon reaching the trader he saw that there were drinks of water available. (At three gold pieces a bottle! Next to a river? What a rip-off!). He also saw that there was food. Fruit, sweets, and oh yes, hamburgers. Pete had never had a hamburger in his life, but he had heard about them. Dropping his pack, he lay the small amount of money that his mother had given him for the journey on the ground to count it. A broad smile appeared when he saw that he had more than enough to buy a burger. It would be a luxury, but it would be so good. He looked each way, as if to make sure he wouldn’t be seen doing something selfish, then he walked up to the counter.
‘Ummm, excuse me Sir, may I have a burger please? With the lot?’
The vendor had been watching Pete count out his money. He stared at Pete’s empty, folded sleeve for a second and then smiled and nodded.
‘Of course young man, and I will give you a little discount because, well, ummm, I can see that you really want this burger.’
Pete wasn’t sure if the man felt sorry for him because of his one arm, or because of his tatty clothes, but he didn’t care. He was used to that sort of thing, and the less money he spent at this early stage the better. He just smiled and watched as the man made up the burger. A bun, a slab of meat, lettuce, cheese, gherkin slices, and some mysterious sauce that the man said was special, but also secret.
Pete handed over the money, feeling a little guilty at how much he was spending, even with the discount, and took the burger.
‘Thankyou Sir.’
The man smiled. Pete put his burger on the ground, slung his pack over his shoulder, picked up the burger again and walked off, trying to eat as he went. It was too tricky though, his one arm unable to steady the pack while he held the burger. So he sat by the side of the road and ate. Once finished, he licked every drop of burger juice off his fingers, picked up his pack, and walked down the dusty road once more. The burger had been as good as he had imagined, except for one ingredient. And so it was that behind our hero a rat, two crows and a stray dog that hadn’t eaten in a week all turned away without touching the gherkin slices that had been tossed on the ground.
Why is it that gherkins are forever doomed to be flung aside onto the ground, or thrown at the ceiling to stick there for weeks? Probably because they taste rotten. Let’s move on.
As the evening closed in on Pete he wondered where he would rest for the night. The town was well behind him now, so options were limited. He wanted to keep moving for as long as possible, but he had walked so far already that his legs were starting to go all wobbly. Not a good sign. Even as he walked, the warm evening breeze seemed to be gently closing his eyes. Slowly, slowly Pete began to drift away, until he was basically sleepwalking. A sudden jolt brought him back to his senses. His eyes snapped open as he stumbled backwards. Catching his balance, Pete realised that he had crashed into a man. Well, at first glance you could easily define him as not only a man, but seemingly not a very nice man. Pete had always been taught by his mother not to judge a book by its cover, but the evidence seemed to be overwhelming here. The missing tooth, the black eye, the sword, the dirty name tag that said ROBBER. Pete McGee felt he had to say something.
‘Excuse me, Sir, I do apologise. By no means did I mean to run into you.’
The man smiled, showing broken and dirty teeth.
‘Entirely my fault.’ His voice seemed laced with sarcasm. ‘Why, I could easily have avoided you if only I was a little quicker on my feet. Are you okay? That’s by far the most important thing.’
Pete was anxious to get moving, feeling very nervous.
‘Yes, thank you. I’m fine. I’ll just be going on my way now.’
‘Why not let me help you, young traveller? I will be happy to carry your pack and any expensive objects that are causing you undue stress.’
‘I’m very sorry, Sir, but your name tag doesn’t fill me with confidence.’
‘What? My name tag? But it … Oh, I see what’s happened.’
The man spat on his finger and scrubbed at the name tag. He removed some of the dirt to reveal it actually said ROBBERT.
‘You see, little boy, my name is actually Robbert. The double B is an example of my father’s spelling ability.’
The ‘little boy’ comment stung, and Pete McGee’s voice went hard and determined.
‘Even so, good Sir, I ask you to remove yourself from my path so that I may continue on my way. I shall carry my own pack, thank you very much, and I shall be fine. Oh, and another thing …’
Pete spat on his hand and rubbed the name tag some more, until it revealed the words ROBBERT THE ROBBER.
‘AHA!’ Pete baulked to the left and then dodged around Robbert to the right, though Robbert made no move to grab him. Pete ran and ran, not daring to look back, ignoring Robbert’s shouts for him to do so. If he had looked, he would have seen Robbert rubbing his name tag totally clean and holding it up. It said: ROBBERT THE ROBBER STOPPER. Phone 9888 0808.
But Pete ran. He ran on wobbly jelly legs. He ran while his legs burned and screamed for him to stop and his pack seemed to grow heavier with every step. Eventually his legs could take it no more and he collapsed on the side of the road. He was asleep before he hit the ground.
t was almost no
on of the next day before our young hero awoke. A dull, grey cloud-cover had replaced the harsh sun of the day before, making the temperature much more bearable. If it hadn’t been for all the noise, Pete may have just kept on sleeping. He stood wearily, rubbing his eyes as things slowly came into focus through the sleepy haze. Coming towards him down the road was a man, a man blowing away merrily on his trumpet, playing the royal fanfare … but Pete thought the royal fanfare was only played to announce the King. Pete looked a little closer. It was the King! King Cyril the Hated and his best men and some other guy who looked nothing like a knight. Pete realised that the some other guy must be Marloynne. As the group drew closer, he saw that the man did fit Ashlyn’s description, although he looked quite heavy and wore a nasty scowl on his face. He also seemed totally focussed on the sandwich he was devouring.
This was a great chance though, and Pete knew he could not afford to miss it. Although he didn’t want to join the King and his men, he needed to try to make contact with Marloynne. He grabbed up his pack and raced over.
‘Your Majesty.’ Pete tried to bow as he ran alongside the King’s horse. Unfortunately his one arm was occupied trying to carry his pack and there was no counter-balance, which made him overbalance and end up sprawled on the side of the road. King Cyril the Could-Not-Possibly-Care-Less didn’t even bother to look, while Marloynne sniggered wickedly. Pete stood up and brushed himself off before walking alongside the horses once more, leaving his pack where it lay.
‘Careful boy, watch your step,’ sneered Marloynne. Pete ignored him, wondering if this was the same person that Ashlyn was so in love with. If it was, she had problems he hadn’t noticed.