The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee

by Adam Wallace

  When he seemed satisfied Pete had enough, Molloy sat back down in his chair.

  ‘Go on Pete. Fat pig in. Smelly feet up.’

  So there was nothing to do then but eat. Pete didn’t know if the food was delicious, or if it was just because he was so hungry, but he had never enjoyed a meal more. The room was filled with laughter. Molloy seemed as if he would never shut up. Pete felt like he really belonged, and he couldn’t wait to tell his mum about this place. After she had been cured by the flower they could move to Bandragon. It’d be great. Plus, Tahnee was here.

  After eating their fill, everyone slumped back in their chairs, especially Pete, who had never had so much food in one sitting. He looked around the room feeling totally content when, suddenly, Mortone stood at the head of the table and called for silence, his voice echoing off the walls.

  ‘Eyes this way!’

  The room fell silent, all eyes on Mortone. He had such a presence, standing there, that Pete couldn’t help but be quiet as he watched. Even Molloy wasn’t speaking.

  ‘People of Bandragon, I hope you enjoyed your meal.’

  The crowd roared their approval. Pete joined in, banging the table and stamping his feet along with Molloy and the others. Mortone held his hands up for silence and the crowd was quiet once again.

  ‘We have in our midst today a very special guest. He is on a quest, one that he hopes will see him collect the Wilderene Flower and save his dying mother. Our guest is a brave young lad. He has already crossed the Plains of Obon, surviving the Mantrils’ best efforts.’

  The crowd cheered, raising their goblets. Pete blushed a deep red. Mortone continued.

  ‘I have no doubt that he will be successful in the fulfilment of his quest. Even so, I ask you all to raise your drinks with me in wishing Pete McGee the best of luck for the rest of his journey.’

  The crowd roared again and all drank heartily. Tahnee leant over and whispered to Pete that her dad hardly ever gave toasts like that, so he must really like him. Pete almost burst with pride as Mortone finished off his speech.

  ‘A friend of mine, a knight, mentioned to me before he left that young Pete wishes to become a great knight himself. I think, from what I have seen, that he is well on the way. Sir Pete McGee has a nice ring to it, and I hope that in the future he will visit us once again. He, his family and his friends are always welcome in Bandragon. To Sir Pete McGee!’

  Mortone raised his goblet high and pointed it towards Pete, who raised his own in reply. Glasses and goblets around the room were thrust towards Pete, who was floating on cloud nine. It was a moment he would never forget, and one he never wanted to end.

  But end it did, as everything must. People continued to talk and drink and laugh, but slowly they began to leave, wishing Pete well as they passed. Finally the room was empty, save for Pete, Tahnee, Molloy and Mortone. Pete spoke to Mortone once more. The town leader was a little wobbly on his feet, no doubt due to the four massive goblets of ale he had drunk during the meal and toasts. Pete thanked him for everything, and promised that he would indeed return one day. Mortone nodded solemnly, focussing hard on Pete while in his head all he could hear were musicians playing a jig. Pete shook the town leader’s huge hand then left to his collect his belongings with Tahnee and Molloy, leaving Mortone to survey the mess that filled his dining room.

  Once in his room Pete picked up his pack, checked his crystal, note and dagger, and was ready for the next stage of his journey. He found it hard to look at his new friends. He hated awkward goodbyes; he just never knew what to say. The twins seemed to sense this so Molloy leapt forward and grabbed Pete’s hand, shaking it wildly. He dropped the rhyming slang, but couldn’t be serious, and spoke with a crazy, aristocratic accent.

  ‘Best of luck then, old chap, what with the flower and all. Here, take this to cover your noggin with, harsh sun out there, m’lad. Pip pip then, what, give King Cyril the Dorky-Dork a jolly old walloping from me, good egg, tally ho, cucumber sandwiches and tea, up over the trenches, Sir, what.’

  ‘What? Sir Who?’ Pete McGee had preferred the rhyming slang. Molloy finally turned serious.

  ‘Good luck, Pete.’ Molloy handed Pete his peaked hat, a parting gift. ‘Get the flower and save your mum, but you have to come back and visit us.’

  Pete took the cap from Molloy and placed it on his head.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Jolly good show! Toodles!’

  Molloy finally let go of Pete’s hand and went jumping out of the room, babbling on to himself in his English accent. Tahnee watched him go, then walked over and held Pete close. Pete was a little stunned, but eventually his arm went around and held Tahnee. He had never hugged a girl before, apart from his mum, and he wondered how long he should hold on.

  ‘Molloy’s right, Pete, you have to come back. I really want to see more of you.’

  Realising what she had said, Tahnee blushed bright red and quickly pulled away.

  ‘I mean, ummm, more time, not more as in, well, you know, ‘cos I already saw heaps, no, I didn’t, I mean, ummmm, well, oh just come back, okay?’

  Pete laughed. As if he would be able to keep away.

  ‘I will. I promise.’

  Tahnee flashed another one of those incredible smiles then turned and ran out of the room. Having already said his goodbye to Mortone and with a full stomach and full pack, there was nothing else to do but leave. It suddenly struck Pete that he might never see his new friends again. He might never see anyone again. Once more the doubts surfaced, whispering to him to just stay in Bandragon and be safe. Then he pictured his mother’s face smiling at him. He saw Ashlyn, desperation in her eyes as she spoke of her love for Marloynne. He saw the people of Bandragon, and he felt Tahnee’s arms around him. He would spend more time in Bandragon, but not now. He would be back soon enough.

  he time passed easily and quickly. The air was warm, inviting Pete to walk briskly, and he felt good after his brief stay at Bandragon. He also had a feeling of inner peace and confidence that he couldn’t really explain. He hadn’t thought of what he would do when he faced Dazene, as to worry about that would be to give Dazene an immediate advantage. Pete needed his mind clear and open; he didn’t want to be worrying about what his fears were before the confrontation. He would face the monster, and he would handle it.

  The enormous tree appeared as Pete walked over a rise in the track he had been following. The sun was low in the sky. It shone through the leaves of the tree, dappling the area around it. Pete sat on the ground and stared. Even from a distance the tree looked huge. There was no sign of the Wilderene Flower, or of Dazene, or even of King Cyril the Nowhere-To-Be-Seen. Pete had planned to arrive at about the same time as the King, but he now began to fear that he was too late. Then, to his left, he spotted three men standing about fifty metres from the tree: King Cyril the Unshaven, Faydon … and Marloynne. Pete smiled in relief. He had been unable to do anything for Marloynne before, but he had been given another chance and he didn’t want to let it go.

  So this was it then. They were all there, and Dazene lay in wait for them. Pete weighed up his options. He had to try to get the flower. He also had to try to save Marloynne. Maybe he should wait for the other three to make the first move. Or maybe Dazene would come after them, not even letting them get close to the Wilderene Flower. He shook his head, trying to clear it. All these thoughts were getting him nowhere. He needed to take charge, and he needed to do it straight away. He checked his note, crystal and dagger one last time, stood up, left his pack on the ground where it lay and walked towards his destiny.

  Unlike Pete, King Cyril the Totally-Fed-Up had no feelings of peace. The journey since the Plains of Obon had not gone according to his plans. Apart from the fact that they had actually added time to their journey rather than saving it, Faydon had not reacted at all well to his inability to control the Mantrils. His power virtually gone, he felt vulnerable and open to attack. He refused to do anything. He walked and he thought about ways to get the Wi
lderene Flower, so that he would regain all of his powers and more. Unfortunately for the King, Faydon’s refusal to do anything also meant that the brainwashing of Marloynne had ceased, and as a consequence the former slave was returning to his normal self. He began asking questions about his life, this journey, and the girl he kept thinking of. Everything was just out of reach, and no answers were forthcoming from his companions. In fact, King Cyril the Grumpy-Bum would barely talk at all. He wanted that flower so badly that he would put up with Faydon’s reluctance to help and the servant boy’s questioning, but he would not lower himself to actually converse with or comfort them. He was now quite prepared to sacrifice both of the men he was with. He just wanted that flower and he wanted it now. He continued to stare at the Great Oak, as if doing so would give him a clue as to when he should make his move. Then, out of the corner of his eye, the King spotted a lone figure walking towards the tree. It was the boy. Somehow he had escaped the plains. Well, this did make things interesting.

  Interesting indeed. Here we are, readers and listeners, we’re getting towards the end of the story. I just thought I would jump in and let you take a break. Things are going to get pretty hectic from now on until:

  (a) someone gets the Wilderene Flower

  (b) everyone dies a horrible, gruesome, bloody, gut-spilling, brain-chewing, vomitous death at the hands of Dazene, OR

  (c) they all wimp out and go home without even trying to get the flower.

  I reckon I know what happens, at least I think I do, but how will you know unless you read on? Or have you already sneaked a look ahead, because if you have that’s just not on. You can’t sneak to the back, then you’d be like those people who read the last page of a book first. Anyway, I’ll pretend you have read no further than this point, and are ready to dive headlong into the conclusion of The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee. Breathe deep, and go for it.

  Pete walked towards the oak, still searching for the Wilderene Flower. When he eventually saw it, he couldn’t believe that it was what he had risked everything for. And yet it had to be. It was the only flower anywhere near the tree. It had a dark green stalk with thorns sticking out of it, and a dull yellow flower on top. As had been foretold in the Green Book, there was only one. It looked as though it would be one flower to rule, I mean to share between them all. And Pete didn’t figure that King Cyril the I-Want-Everything-For-Myself would suddenly become a sharing, caring guy.

  He noticed the three men staring at him. The King waved.

  ‘Go on boy, you can do it. King of the world!’ he shouted. It looked as though the King wanted to see what happened to Pete before he risked anything himself. It wasn’t a bad plan, Pete thought, even if it was a pretty cowardly one. Still, there was nothing to do now but to walk on. And so walk on he did.

  Back at Pete’s home Mrs McGee’s body convulsed yet again. The coughing fits were so frequent now that there was barely a gap between where one finished and the next began. Ashlyn waited until there was a break of some sort, then held a damp cloth to Mrs McGee’s forehead. Her hand brushed the skin and she pulled it away with a gasp. The skin was burning and clammy. Realising how she had recoiled, Ashlyn began to apologise, but Mrs McGee waved her away, the thin arm barely moving but still aching with the action. Ashlyn left the room with the excuse of getting more water and cloths, but once in the kitchen she leaned on the sink and closed her eyes. There was not much time. They needed that flower.

  Pete McGee stopped barely twenty metres from the tree. He reached into his inside pocket and held Ashlyn’s crystal for a moment. His heart warmed at the memory of Ashlyn and her love for Marloynne. He pledged silently that he would not fail her. Then he pulled his mother’s note out and, although he knew it word for word, he read it through once more.

  You are Sir Pete McGee, a noble and brave man, slayer of monsters and righter of wrongs. You are strong in so many ways. Believe in yourself, and the world will see just how great a man with one arm can be.

  He placed the note back in his pocket and glanced at the tree. There was still no sign of Dazene.

  azene sat in the branches of the great tree, invisible to those who desperately searched for him. He sat and he watched the arrival of four new threats to the Wilderene Flower. He had spotted them coming from a long way off, and had summed up their qualities. There was fear radiating from the group of three. Dazene breathed it in, feeling it, using it to fuel his energy. There was also much false bravado about the one dressed as a King. He was a mean man who would use others, but when the crunch came, Dazene knew that the King would fold. He relished the bravado almost as much as the fear. These three would not give a great deal of trouble.

  The boy, however, standing so much closer to the tree, was intriguing. Although there was doubt, it was covered by courage and bravery beyond his years. He was here for reasons other than his own gain, and this gave him strength. Dazene would have to focus a lot of energy on this one.

  Marloynne also watched the boy. He remembered him from earlier in the journey and wondered what one so young would gain by risking his life for the flower. Marloynne started as the boy looked straight at him.

  Sir Pete McGee had seen Marloynne watching him. When he caught his eye he decided it was time to make contact.

  ‘For Ashlyn!’ he cried, hand on his heart, before beginning to walk towards the tree.

  ‘For you Mum,’ he whispered to himself.

  King Cyril the Spectator, Faydon, and Marloynne watched the boy walk towards the tree, stepping warily but with a quiet confidence about him. Unlike earlier, the mention of Ashlyn’s name had gotten through to Marloynne, who had attempted to move. He was held back by his ruler, who would not lose his sacrifice to help the boy. Then the three men saw a huge, lizard-like creature sliding down the tree. Despite its size, it moved like liquid, not even really seeming to move but then suddenly it would be somewhere new. It was totally in control, totally confident in its ability to defend the Wilderene Flower. As it got to the ground it changed before their eyes into a frail, weak woman that moved around the tree to confront this latest threat.

  ‘Mum?’ Pete McGee couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew that Dazene would confront him with his greatest fear, but how could that be his mother? She was his greatest support.

  Mrs McGee jolted as if an electric shock had passed through her. Ashlyn grabbed her to hold her steady, but the shock had passed, and the body lay still. With an effort, Mrs McGee spoke.

  ‘Tell Pete I love him. Tell him I’m so proud.’

  Mrs McGee shut her eyes tight, trying to hide from the pain, but she couldn’t. It eased enough so that she could continue.

  ‘Tell him I’m glad he got the flower, even if I can’t use it. Please tell him, Ashlyn.’

  Before Ashlyn could answer, before she could ask Mrs McGee how she knew Pete had the flower, the tiny body tensed once again and then was still. Ashlyn stared in disbelief. This wasn’t what was meant to happen. This wasn’t the happy ending. Where was Pete? Mrs McGee was smiling, though. She had died a proud mother, and in death she looked more alive to Ashlyn than she ever had whilst living.

  Dazene, in the form of Pete’s mum, hobbled closer to the boy. It spoke in the voice Pete knew so well, but the tone was harsh.

  ‘You were wrong to come here, Pete. How could you leave me? How could you try to get some sort of glory, some sort of self-satisfaction? How could you be somewhere else when I died?’

  Pete took a step back then steadied. His hand slid down his side to the dagger.

  ‘This isn’t you, Mum. This is all a lie. I know you’re not dead.’

  ‘Maybe not, Sir Pete, but maybe I am. You knew I didn’t have much time left. You knew there was a chance that even if you got the flower you wouldn’t get back in time. But you left me. You wouldn’t stay with me even though I stayed with you. You were never going to get back in time and you knew it. I believed in you, I put everything I had into you, and this is how you repay me?’

  Pete cri
ed out as if he had been struck, Dazene’s words seeping into his mind.

  The King released his grip on Marloynne.

  ‘Go. Now. While the beast is distracted. Go and get me that flower.’

  Marloynne spun around and faced the King. His mind clear, he realised why he had been brought on this journey. He was to be the sacrificial lamb. He couldn’t believe he had been used so easily, that he had changed so easily. Turning away from the King in disgust he looked back at the boy. That was the one he should be working with. He turned to tell his King where to go, but before he got the words out King Cyril the Manipulator spoke sharply to him.

  ‘Go, or the slave girl will be killed on my return.’

  The King’s words propelled Marloynne forward. He broke into a jog and then, when he had almost reached the flower, Ashlyn walked from behind the Great Oak. Marloynne stopped short. He knew nothing of Dazene’s abilities, and assumed that with the beast confronting the boy, this must truly be Ashlyn. Why had she not come out earlier? Marloynne cried out with joy and moved towards his lost love but she recoiled from him.

  ‘No. Stay away from me. You have changed since we parted. I have seen another side to you and it is not for me.’

  ‘Ashlyn, no, that was not me. It was Faydon’s magic. I am myself again. I never forgot you. I have never forgotten us.’

  Ashlyn stabbed an accusatory finger towards Marloynne.

  ‘Lies, Marloynne, all lies. The person you became was inside you all along, waiting to be released. How could you do this to me? I was yours forever. I could not live without you, you knew that. And still you betrayed me.’