Dawn of the Zombie Knights (10 page)

Sir Nayme, obviously not familiar with LIES, ALL LIES, nodded.

‘Very well, Smithers, but do not go easy on him, just because you are such close friends. I expect you to try your hardest.'

Larson Smithers smiled an extremely evil smile, staring straight at Pete McGee as he replied.

‘Oh don't worry, Sir. I will go as hard as I possibly can. How will he improve if I make it easy for him?'

Sir Nayme nodded and patted sucky Smithers on the shoulder before walking off to check on the other pairs, leaving Pete and his arch enemy alone.

‘You're going down, McGee,' Smithers said, his voice back to normal. ‘I'm gonna flatten you like a, well, like a, umm, like something that's really flat. And dumb.'

Pete ignored him, although he tried to keep eye contact so as to appear tough and brave. Inside he wondered what was going to happen. He soon found out.The whistle blew. Smithers hooked Pete's arm and flipped him onto the ground. Pete landed with a thud. He stood up but before he could get any focus, Smithers did a dive-tackle, knocking three quarters of the wind out of him. He drove Pete onto the training mat, which knocked out the remaining quarter of wind. Then he rolled Pete over and twisted his arm behind his back. Pete cried out, the arm pushed to breaking point, stabbing pains running through it from his shoulder down.

‘Yield, McGee,' Smithers sneered. ‘Give up.'

‘Never,' Pete said through gritted teeth. ‘And you can never make me.'

Smithers pushed the arm a little further, more pain surging through it. It seemed there was nothing Pete could do. He tried to kick, but that was no good. He squirmed and tried to wriggle free, but that just hurt his arm more. Sir Mountable was no help. Pete could see him from his prone position, and all Sir Mountable was doing was drinking a whole heap of water and calling out the stupidest encouragement ever.

‘Get up, boy!'

‘I don't think you're winning, my little squire.'

‘Three horses.'

Pete didn't know what that last one even meant, but he did know he was hugely relieved when he heard Sir Nayme's whistle blow twice. Smithers let go of his arm and stood up.

‘One round down, McGee. You'll never last three rounds, let alone the rest of the training.'

Pete stood up, shaking his arm. He stared straight at Smithers.

‘Thou art going down, Smi—'

His brave words were cut off by a whistle, and then he couldn't speak at all because Smithers had somehow got behind and had him in a headlock. Pete was finding it almost impossible to breathe. He waved his arm around, trying to break free. Then he realised something. He may only have one arm, but he had two legs. He stomped down on Smithers' foot as hard as he could. The other boy cried out in shock and the headlock was released. Pete spun around smiling, but saw that all he had done was make Smithers mad.

Ohhhh boy!

The rest of that round and the entire next round was a blur of being thrown on the ground and headlocks and holds and everything else. Even though there was meant to be no hitting, Smithers got in sneaky punches to Pete's ribs, and even kneed him a few times. Sir Mountable yelled out some more random things, and Pete began to suspect that it wasn't water in the bottle at all.

Finally the whistle blew three times, and with a final punch to Pete's ribs, Larson Smithers stood up.

‘Go home, McGee … if you can make it!'

Pete could barely move, let alone come up with a snappy comeback. He simply walked over to where all the trainee knights gathered with Sir Nayme. Smithers shook his head. Sir Mountable did a little dance as he started on his third bottle of ‘water'.

‘Trainees,' Sir Nayme said. ‘Choose a different partner. We shall now practice the Arjayne throwing technique. Do you all understand this technique?'

All the trainees nodded except Pete. Smithers spoke up.

‘Sir? Seeing as McGee knows nothing of this, and seeing as he is my bestest friend, can I teach it to him?'

‘You are a good friend indeed, Smithers. Yes. Teach him. Teach him well.'

‘Oh I will, Sir.'

Pete groaned. His groan was warranted. For the next ten minutes he was thrown about a billion times, no exaggerisation. By the time the whistle blew three times, he was spent, but he was determined not to let Smithers win. It turned out Smithers won without doing anything.

‘Oh the little pixies sing a song,
They sing it to me all day long.
It's a song so light and bright,
They sing it to me day or night.'

Sir Mountable was singing the pixie song. Smithers couldn't stop laughing. Pete had had enough. He leapt onto Smithers and started hitting him with all his might. A roar went up from the other boys, but it stopped instantly. Pete didn't know why, so he just kept hitting, Smithers trying to block the blows.

Eventually, the reason for the lack of roaring was revealed, as a strong hand gripped Pete's arm when it swung back for another punch. Pete was lifted to his feet, and stood face-to-face with King Rayon.

‘Pete McGee,' the King said, his voice unusually hard as he let go of the young boy. ‘Attacking another knight, one of your own, is totally out of order. I believe it is time for you to leave knight-training. I apologise, but this is not something I can overlook, and you are no longer accepted here. Pick up your goods, leave, and please take Sir Mountable with you.'

‘So can I come back again tomorrow?' Pete asked.

King Rayon shook his head. Smithers was on his feet, rubbing his sore spots and glaring at Pete. His glare turned into a smile at the King's next words.

‘No, young McGee. When I say you are no longer accepted here, I mean as a trainee knight. Your involvement is finished. It is over.'

Pete didn't move. It couldn't be over that easily. It just couldn't. He hadn't quit. He hadn't and he wasn't going to. It just
couldn't
be over that easily. This was his one chance.

‘McGee. That was an order from your King. Leave the grounds now.'

Sir Nayme's voice was like a dagger to his heart, but Pete continued to stare. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't yell or scream or cry. Unfortunately, Sir Mountable did some yelling for him.

‘Ohhh, Kingy man. Think you're so tough. McGurk wants to be a knight knighty knighty knighty poo, why wontcha let him hey?'

The King simply looked sad. The other boys, Smithers in particular, laughed, rolling on the ground. Pete was more embarrassed than he thought possible. Sir Mountable had even got his name wrong! The knight was now walking towards the King, holding out his arms for a hug. Pete walked over and pushed him away and to the door, stopping only to pick up his jacket and pack and to look one last time at the knight-training he was leaving forever.

It was over.

Wow. Not good! How will Pete become a knight now? How will he amount to anything after such a crushing blow? How will, how will, how will anything ever be right again?

Hopefully there's good news and more change to come. If not, we're in trouble and you may as well go and read a book about vampires. I've heard there are a couple of those around at the moment …

he walk back was slow, but that was, in a way, a good thing as it gave Pete time to think. He figured he had two choices. One was that he could give up the dream of being a knight and look for something else. Or he could get a job doing something boring. He could lay around the house, only going outside to feed Horsey Horse Horse, and blah blah blahdy blah. His thoughts on the matter stopped before he could get more depressed, as he had to help Sir Mountable up out of a ditch.

They arrived at Sir Mountable's house with dusk quickly approaching. Pete left Horsey Horse Horse in the front yard with the goat and went to open the door.

‘I can do it, boy,' Sir Mountable mumbled. ‘I can do it just fine.'

He pushed past Pete and opened the door, but before he walked in he turned around and stared directly into Pete's eyes.

‘Why do you want to become a knight, boy?'

Pete stared at him, his voice angry.

‘I told you already! Don't you even listen?'

The knight nodded, almost causing himself to overbalance. His voice, when he spoke, was amazingly strong and clear.

‘I heard a well-rehearsed list, boy. I heard a list about someone else being great, and how you like your mummy, and about wanting to prove that a disability won't stop you. I heard about wanting respect. I heard about wanting people to like you, about wanting to impress others, to need others to have a good opinion of you. I have neither heard nor seen one thing of why you want to become, or should become, a knight. Now go. We are done here.'

And in he walked.

It was the last straw for Pete. He had been worn down. He had been worn down to the point where all he wanted to do was let out all the frustrations that had built up.

So he did.

He roared.

He went inside the house, where Sir Mountable was already lying down on the couch. He went to the sink and filled a jug with water. He walked straight over to Sir Mountable and soaked him.

‘I want to be a knight because I have greatness in me.'

He went and filled the jug again, Sir Mountable coughing and spluttering on the couch, sitting up now. Pete walked over and threw more water over him.

‘I want to be a knight because it fills every corner of my soul, because a knight gives of himself in order to help and protect others, and this is the greatest cause I can think of.'

More walking, more water, more throwing of the water.

‘I want to be a knight because evil is bad and because good is, well, good. I want to be the best damn knight there has ever been. I want to be a knight that leaves a legacy to the world, unlike yourself.'

He was breathing hard, lost for words now. Sir Mountable dried his face off on his sleeve and smiled.

‘Finally,' he said. ‘I said when we first met that I thought you had heart. I say it again now, and I mean it. I have asked over and over why you want to become a knight because I need you to know it is not about being well thought of. What others think does not make you anything, for their thoughts can change in an instant. Their thoughts are out of your control.

Greatness is in your deeds. It is in your actions. It is, as you said, in being selfless, in helping others, and in giving of yourself. But you must want this with every fibre in your body, because to become great takes dedication, and desire, and it will hurt, but it will be worth every second of pain. Now, I have one more question. Is it more important to have the title of a knight or to act like one?'

Pete thought he would have a little fun, seeing as Sir Mountable seemed to be relaxing now.

‘Well, the title would be pretty impressive,' he said with a smile. What happened next was a huge shock. Showing surprising speed, Sir Mountable leapt off the couch and grabbed Pete by the scruff of his shirt, lifting him slightly and pushing him against the wall. Sir Mountable was right in Pete's face, the words cutting deep.