Pete McGee and the Master of Darkness

by Adam Wallace

  About the author

  FACT! Adam Wallace is the author of this book.

  FACT! Pete McGee and the Master of Darkness could well be Adam’s favourite book he has ever written.

  FACT! Adam made up the entire story, but he did steal all the words from the dictionary.

  FACT! This is the last book in the Pete McGee series … unless Adam writes another one, then this will be the second last book … unless he writes another one after the next one, then this will be the third last book.

  FACT! Adam nearly broke both his ankles playing on a trampoline. That has nothing to do with this book, but it did hurt!

  FACT! One time Adam got butted on the butt by a goat.

  FACT! When he was seven, Adam got hit in the head with a golf club and needed seven stitches.

  FACT! I’m just writing about Adam getting hurt now.

  FACT! This is the end of the About the author section.

  FACT! No it’s not! SUCKED IN! This is the last bit now.

  Pete McGee and the Master of Darkness is a book.

  Here are some other books written by Adam Wallace and published by JoJo Publishing.

  The first two books in the Pete McGee series

  The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee

  Pete McGee: Dawn of the Zombie Knights

  The most grossest books by Adam Wallace

  Better Out Than In

  Better Out Than In Number Twos

  Picture books by Adam Wallace

  The Share-a-not

  Mac O’Beasty

  The Negatees

  Adam’s website is:

  www.adam-wallace-books.com

  If you email Adam, he will definitely email back.

  His email address is:

  wally@adam-wallace-books.com

  For Aiden and Jordy, you rock!

  Thanks for all your help with the story.

  Contents

  A message from the narrator

  Chapter 1: Struggleville. Population: Pete McGee

  Chapter 2: Master of Darkness: This is Your Life well a bit of it anyway

  Chapter 3: Bandragon

  Chapter 4: Bandragon … this time for sure

  Chapter 5: Everything seems perfect … uh oh!

  Chapter 6: Let the games begin

  Chapter 7: A meet and greet

  Chapter 8: Here comes the bride, all dressed in white

  Chapter 9: Slipped on a banana peel and went for a ride

  Chapter 10: It’s on. Oh it is on, my friend, don’t you worry about that!

  Chapter 11: Open wide, come inside, it’s the Green Book

  Chapter 12: Blob the builder

  Chapter 13: Worst

  Chapter 14: Legs get physical

  Chapter 15: Test number two … hehe ‘number two’

  Chapter 16: More test ‘number two’

  Chapter 17: Does whatever a spider can

  Chapter 18: Exit forest, stage right

  Chapter 19: Going solo

  Chapter 20: Poisonous spikes and all things nice

  Chapter: 21: It’s showdown time

  Chapter 22: Lights, camera … ACTION!

  Chapter 23: Tell the world I’m coming home

  Chapter: 24: Here comes the bride … again

  Epilogue

  A message from the narrator

  Greetings readers and listeners, and welcome to the final instalment in the Pete McGee series.

  Okay, okay, don’t get all stressed; I will tell you right now that when I say final instalment, it doesn’t mean Pete McGee dies in this book. Well, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. Hang on, let me just flick through and, yep, he does not die! WOO!

  No, this is merely the final documented journey of Pete McGee. His journey continued, it’s just that no one wrote about it and so I won’t be telling it to you.

  So there you go.

  In the meantime, we have got a cracker of a story coming your way! This is a story so good it’s like a fake vanilla smell and a fake strawberry smell got together in a room to discuss politics … then they decided that would be as boring as poking themselves in the eye with a table tennis bat, so they invited a fake musk smell and a fake coconut smell into the room. They all danced in a conga line and merged together to make the best smell ever in the whole, entire history of the world.

  That smell is this story.

  Yep.

  It is that good.

  If I were you I would read the book rather than smell it, as you’ll get more enjoyment out of it that way. It’ll just smell like paper and ink anyway, except for, of course, page 126. Oh ho ho, yes Sir, page 126, that is one unique smelling page.

  That is all I will say on that matter.

  So here we go then. This is it: the last story in the series. The definitely, very last story about Pete McGee EVER!

  And that, right there, is exactly why we have put everything we possibly can into this book, to make it the best, most amazingly incredible book you have ever read. It has everything this time. Seriously. There is even a giraffe! I KNOW! A real, live giraffe! How did that get in the book? I honestly do not know, but it’s there.

  There are squirrels too.

  And Lachie Wright!

  I know … Wright!

  So strap yourselves in and get ready for a marvellous, wondiferous, splendasticly amazing story, the likes of which you have never read before, and the likes of which you will never read again.

  Ready?

  Well, let’s do this then.

  Ahem, hem …

  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO A STORY, A STORY OF LOVE, LOYALTY, GIRAFFES, VILLAINS, CHALLENGES, AND A NAME-CALLING SHOWDOWN THAT WILL EXPLODE YOUR MIND.

  SO LOCK IT IN EDDIE, IT’S TIME TO FACE THE DRAGON, AS WE BEGIN THE STORY THAT IS: PETE McGEE AND THE MASTER OF DARKNESS.

  Well what are you waiting for? Turn the page, that’s where all the writing is.

  Chapter One

  Struggleville. Population: Pete McGee

  'Less play, McGee, more structure! Do it again, everyone!’

  The rest of the boys glared at Pete. It was not the first time this had happened.

  ‘Listen up, trainee knights,’ their instructor barked. ‘You must all do this exercise the same way. Our survival depends on it. What is clause two of the Knight’s Creed?’

  Pete watched on hopelessly as the other trainees formed a perfect line, stood to attention, and yelled, ‘INITIATIVE EQUALS RISK!’

  He sighed and joined the group as they repeated the exercise, making sure he did it exactly as he was supposed to this time.

  Four hours later, Pete McGee groaned and flopped onto the ground. It had been a long day, especially when he was dong training that he felt was sucking the life out of him.

  I am a knight, he thought to himself in a robot voice (which was very impressive, because robots hadn’t been invented when Pete McGee was alive). He even did little robot movements with his arm. Yep, Pete McGee was doing a very early version of a robot dance. His thoughts continued …

  I must not be an individual. I must act as I am told. I must react to every situation in the same manner. Regardless of my differences I must be as other knights have been and always will be. Knights have been and always will be. Always will be. Will be. Will be.

  It was crazy. Pete had dreamt of becoming a knight his entire life, and now it was happening and he was on his way, but he was having massive doubts. He didn’t understand what was going on. It just wasn’t what he had thought it would be. Oh, you know, there was talk of loyalty and honour and learning to say thus and thou and everything, but he could do all that anyway. He thought there would be more. He thought he would be able to tak
e his particular strengths and improve on them, become more than he had ever dreamed. He didn’t think that he would be turned into a fancy foot soldier.

  It suited some of the trainees. They lapped it up. They needed the order and the structure and the blah blah blah BORING! That wasn’t Pete at all.

  Where were the dragon slayers of old?!

  It seemed to Pete as though being a knight had lost its lustre. Being a knight these days meant being part of a crowd, part of a system. You became a knight, you marched in order, you fought for the King, and you were given a piece of land. This wasn’t what Pete had signed up for. Knights had become mere noblemen, not great men of justice, honour and valour. Pete believed a knight was proven by his deeds, yet a knight was now simply a knight in name only, and deeds were in stories told of days past.

  At the same time though, in a weird sort of way, Pete thought he was doing the right thing. It was time to settle down. It was time to make sure his mother was safe, time to make sure they had a chance of a future. It was time for the adventures, the quests, the zombies, the battles, to stop.

  Pete’s best friend at training was Larson Smithers. Smithers had been raised to become a knight. His father was a knight, his father’s father had been a knight, and so it was all Smithers had ever known. He wanted the title. He wanted the land and the banquets and the suit of armour. It was what was expected of him, and he didn’t want to let his father, the Head of the King’s Guards, down.

  Pete knew there was more to Smithers than that though. For years Smithers had bullied and teased Pete McGee, and yet they had become firm friends. They had fought side by side when defeating the vicious, black-hearted zombie knights, and Pete knew that Smithers was brave and skilled. He also knew there was a part of Smithers that yearned to break free from the life that had been planned for him.

  Pete, at the very least, hoped there was more to being a knight than what he was experiencing.

  Below the surface, a long way below, the evil stirred. It stirred, stretched and awakened. This was no ordinary evil. It was evil times infinity. It was evil times infinity plus one, no returns. It was evil put in an evil-increasing machine turned up to level nine, because level ten would just be silly. It was pure evil in its purest form.

  It had slept for many years, but now it awakened. It was still a little snoozy though. It grumbled and rolled over, desperate for more sleep. Little did it know it was being awakened and watched by one who rarely slept. No, Syra Tanooth did not like to sleep, for when he did he had nightmares and sometimes, if they were really scary … well, let’s just say that was why there were plastic sheets on his bed.

  Anyway, the point is, the evil was stirring. Syra Tanooth, the evil sorcerer, had decided he needed a sidekick, and what better sidekick than a being more evil than a jug of evil heated up in the microwave?

  Syra clapped his hands to turn off his crystal ball. He would let the evil sleep a little longer. This would be a gradual waking-up. He didn’t want the evil to be too grumpy. Not yet anyway.

  Pete looked at the other trainee knights. They were all very seriously discussing the last technique they had learned. It was a time-honoured sword-fighting technique that worked fine if your opponent was exactly the right height and weight compared to you and did exactly what you needed them to.

  Pete could see it now: the middle of a battlefield, swords and shields and heads flying everywhere. Suddenly you come face to face with an enemy knight. He makes a move. You see the opportunity and raise your sword, only … ‘Ummm, excuse me, good Sir. If it doth please thee, would thou moveth a little to the right. Actually, wait, yes! Swap with the man on thy left. Good. Now, Sir, perchance could thy please lower thy sword a touch, move in a little closer, and hold thy non-sword-wielding arm out to the side. Yes. A little more. Higher. Lower. Perfect. Now take this!’

  Pete laughed at the thought. The other boys scowled at him. They didn’t like that he was different. A few of them worried that Pete would drag them down in battle, that his one arm would be a hindrance to them and that they would have to look after him.

  Sometimes he played on this. Over the years Pete had worked out perfectly good systems for things like tying his shoelaces, cleaning the house and defeating evil monsters! But, on these occasions, he would look down at his shoes and play dumb.

  ‘Umm, Smithers, could you please do up my shoelace for me? It’s undone again.’

  Smithers would roll his eyes and wink, knowing perfectly well what Pete was up to.

  ‘Oh. Gee. Golly gosh, Willikins. Art thou having difficulties, young peasant boy? Would thou liketh me to tie thy shoelace, due to thy lack of an arm-type limb?’

  Pete would try his hardest not to laugh.

  ‘That, good Sir, would be the noblest of gestures. For one as rich and powerful as thee to lower himself to my level, and then even lower—to my shoe’s level—astounds and pleases me, for when thou art down there I shall drop mine elbow!’

  And then, as Smithers was down tying Pete’s shoe, Pete would dig his elbow into Smithers’ back and they would wrestle. It was always play wrestling, but it helped Pete develop. Smithers was the most talented of the trainee knights when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Not only that, he was a year older than Pete. Not only, not only that, he was strong. Not only, not only, not only that, but … no, actually, that’s the lot now.

  All those things helped Pete become stronger and more skilled. Smithers even showed Pete how having one arm could be an advantage. There were holds Pete could use that others couldn’t, and holds that people could do on others they couldn’t do on Pete. It had been rare that Pete had seen his missing arm as advantageous, although once it had actually saved his life. (That was in the first Pete McGee book for those who have been reading closely.)

  It was odd that Smithers was the one helping Pete McGee see the positive side of having a missing arm. The two had been sworn arch-enemies for years, as Smithers waged a campaign of bullying against Pete, mostly picking on his disability. It took time for Smithers to see past Pete’s physical appearance to the man inside, and it was only when Smithers grew up enough himself that the two could truly become friends.

  But friends they had become, and were it not for Molloy, Pete’s best friend in the entire world, Smithers would have easily taken up the title.

  ‘Pete! PETE!’

  Smithers’ voice brought Pete back to the present moment. He now found himself flat on his stomach with his arm pinned behind him.

  ‘Pete,’ Smithers groaned, ‘it’s no fun if you aren’t even going to try. I mean, I know I can beat you anyway, but at least put up a fight!’

  Pete laughed.

  ‘Sorry, Smithers,’ he said, ‘it’s just that, well, you know, it’s my tummy; it’s not feeling too great.’

  ‘No. Not your tummy. Please not your tummy!’

  ‘YES, MY TUMMY!’ Pete yelled, before letting rip with a stinker of a fart. Smithers quickly let go of Pete’s arm so he could hold his nose. Pete rolled over and flipped Smithers onto his back. He stood triumphantly, put a foot on Smithers’ chest, and did a victory dance. This was when he felt at his best. This was when he felt alive. He was able to be himself and he was learning how that could be an advantage.

  Pete hoped, by doing the knight training and turning his back on adventure, that he would not actually lose who he was, and who he wanted to become.

  Chapter Two

  Master of Darkness: This is Your Life … well a bit of it anyway

  Syra Tanooth gazed longingly into his crystal ball. In it, he saw the evil sleep.

  It looked so cute, rolled up into a ball, bits of dribble coming out of its mouth. It even rolled over occasionally, murmuring something that sounded like Mumsy. Syra had to hold himself back from running over there and giving it a big hug.

  Syra had been lonely for a long time; when he was young, and wanting to be an evil mastermind, he had decided to work alone. Oh sure, things had gone well for a while. But it got to the point w
here he would come home from raiding a village, turning a creature to stone, or stealing a valuable diamond, and all he wanted to do was share it with someone. He wanted to laugh and joke with another being of pure evil as they reminisced on their evil deeds for the day.

  Also, there had been times when having a companion would have come in handy. Retrieving the Wilderene Flower, for example. Syra had tried on three separate occasions, each three years apart, to get that flower. Twice Dazene had thwarted his attempts. His most recent attempt had been barely two months ago, and had been spoiled by knights that were dead and yet alive, and really rather smelly.

  Syra knew that the flower’s magical wish would grant him immense and unbeatable power. He laughed when he thought about the things people usually said they would wish for:

  ‘I wish for world peace.’

  ‘I wish for all those who are hungry to be fed.’

  ‘I wish for a sandwich filled with lettuce and venison.’

  Syra laughed again. Fools, each and every one, he thought. If he, Syra Tanooth, Master of Darkness, was ever granted a wish, he would use it wisely. He never understood why people didn’t wish for a million more wishes. Or wish for all their wishes to come true. Or at least wish for some sauce to go on that sandwich—it would be too dry with only meat and lettuce.

  For centuries, none had been able to retrieve the Wilderene Flower, as it had been guarded by Dazene, revealer of fears. Finally, one by the name of Sir Pete McGee had defeated Dazene. Syra Tanooth had heard stories of Sir Pete McGee. It had been three years since the flower had been taken, and in that time the legend had become, well, legendary.

  Sir Pete McGee: a great knight, over six feet tall and with muscles on his muscles. Syra had heard of his skill, how he had two arms and yet seemed to have twenty so fast did he move, and so large were those arms. He had legs like tree trunks, and a sword so heavy only he could carry it. Sir Pete McGee, the mightiest warrior ever seen, and as handsome as any man ever created—or born, or found under a vegetable patch, or whatever happened when babies were made, Syra didn’t know, he had been absent from school the day all that had been discussed.