Dawn of the Zombie Knights (16 page)

Sir Charge stopped his horse and turned to face the others.

‘This is truly thy last chance, Sir Myse. What direction do we take?'

Sir Myse hesitated. He thought carefully and it seemed to him that they should take the road to the left. So that was what he suggested. Sir Charge turned his attention to Sir Tification, raising one mouldy eyebrow. Sir Tification nodded.

‘He doth be correct. This time for sure.'

Sir Charge grunted and rode his horse down the road to the left. The others followed, Sir Plus feeling like the extra knight tacked on the end as usual.

Larson Smithers stood on top of the hill again, watching Pete McGee riding his horse and chasing a rabbit. He wished he could catch McGee in formal training, just so he could dob him in. It had been a bonus seeing him that other time, a total fluke really. He had just been going for a walk when he had happened upon the training session. He had run straight to his dad, the head of the guards, and had told him everything. After that, Smithers knew that if McGee was caught training now, surely he would be banished forever.

Smithers had targeted Pete as a victim early on, when he had been wanting to make an impression on others. Having one arm had made Pete an easy target, and when Smithers had gotten a laugh for picking on Pete that first time, he just kept on with it. It became second nature. He searched for ways to pick on Pete, and he searched for reasons to dislike him.

He had said all that stuff about Pete being dangerous, and that was true to a certain extent, but it wasn't the whole story. It was also that Pete had qualities that he, Smithers, wanted. Smithers was scared, in a way, of Pete being a better knight than him, and that couldn't be allowed to happen.

People also liked Pete without him having to threaten or scare them into it. AAAGGGHHH! He just hated McGee and his stupid one arm and getting the Wilderene Flower and being good at stuff and being so determined all the time and everyone liking him and trying so hard to …

The thoughts stopped as he caught a whiff of something in the air. Not something pleasant like strawberry pie, but something disgusting like rotting flesh mixed with horse poo mixed with six-week-old eggs mixed with four-day-old garlic breath. It was awful. He held his hand to his nose and turned around. His heart didn't quite stop when he saw what he saw, but it thought about it, and then sped up to about two hundred beats a minute.

There were twelve horses, if you could call them that. They were half-flesh, half-bones. Their black teeth grinned at him. That was bad enough, but the riders were even worse. At first glance they looked like knights. Their armour was black and so, Larson Smithers could tell immediately, were their souls. Even though they wore armour, bones stuck out at all angles. Bits of flesh hung from the steel. Most of them wore no helmets so their faces were exposed, and they weren't the prettiest flowers in the bunch. The lead knight rode up to him.

‘You.' The voice chilled Smithers to his bones. ‘Where is the Wilderene Flower?'

Smithers thought fast. He knew McGee had retrieved and used the flower, but he didn't know if he had then given it to the King, or kept it at home, planted it … he had no idea. All he knew was that if he was to survive he had to dob someone else in and get these creatures away from him. So he pointed with a trembling finger to the field where Pete McGee now stood by his horse, talking to Sir Mountable.

‘They know,' he said, his voice trembling almost as much as his finger. ‘They know. Ask them. I have to go and … do something else. Anything. I have to go now. Ask them. They know.'

So much for honour and valour.

Smithers was basically moving before he finished the sentence and now he ran, not looking back, expecting with every step he took to feel the hot breath of death on his neck. But he felt nothing, so he kept running and he didn't stop until he had locked himself in his room and hidden under his bed.

The zombie knights looked down at the field. They did not fear anyone, although for some reason unknown to them they hesitated before advancing. Once on the move though, any hesitation disappeared. Sir Charge grinned. Soon the flower would be his, and he and his ten knights would be invincible. Yes. Ten. Once he had the flower, Sir Vyvor's luck would not be needed.

ete McGee and Sir Mountable, like Larson Smithers had done, smelt the Black Knights approaching before they saw them. They had been discussing the differences and similarities between a sword-fighting and an archery battle when the aroma touched their nostrils.

‘Oh man, what is that smell? Sir Mountable, did you have beans again last night?' Pete asked jokingly.

He did not get the response he anticipated. Instead, Sir Mountable stared straight past him. Pete spun around and saw knights on horses riding down the hill towards them. He groaned.

‘No. Oh no. We're done for. They've found us. They know we've been doing sneaky training. I won't ever see Mum again at this rate.'

Sir Mountable laid a hand on his shoulder.

‘Be positive, boy. We are not done for yet.'

They stood side-by-side as the zombie knights approached. It was only as they neared that Pete and Sir Mountable realised they were not knights of the King. This made Pete, if not Sir Mountable, extremely relieved. He went up to the lead rider, looking at him but not really seeing him, and leant against the horse, patting the knight on his side.

‘Oh man. It is so good to see you. You aren't with the King, right? Of course you aren't. So good to see you.'

His thoughts changed a little when he moved away from the horse and saw he had bits of flesh stuck to his side and his hand. He gave a cry and flicked it away, and then looked properly at the knight he had spoken to. It was not a pretty sight. Sir Charge's patience was also in short supply.

‘Where is the flower?' he asked. ‘Tell me now or thou shalt pay the price.'

‘Flower?' Pete asked, honestly confused. Sir Charge drew his sword and touched it to the young man's throat.

‘The Wilderene Flower. Thou doth know of its whereabouts. Divulge them now.'

Pete's mind raced. He couldn't tell them where the flower was, because that would lead them straight to his mum. And he certainly didn't want to make up something to get someone else into trouble either. He didn't like lying, but he had to protect his mother.

‘I know not what thou speaketh of,' he said. ‘This flower? Could thee describe it?'

The point of the blade pressed a little more firmly against his throat. Pete gulped. Sir Charge grinned.

‘We shall not hesitate to kill you, boy. Sir Kewlar hungers for your brain, small as it may be. Speak of the flower now.'

Before there was an answer the sword was knocked away. Pete backed off a couple of steps, gasping. Sir Mountable stood, sword drawn, helmet on, ready for battle. The zombie knights dismounted in a flash, eager for blood. Sir Vyvor took the horses and led them to one side of the field. He wanted none of this uneven battle.

‘Retreat, Black Knight,' Sir Mountable said in his deep, raspy voice. ‘Leave the boy. I alone know the whereabouts of the Wilderene Flower, and I shall not divulge this knowledge to one as evil as yourself.'

‘Then it shall be cut out of you,' Sir Charge said before attacking with a roar, sword swinging above his head. Before he could do anything with it though, an arrow embedded itself in his eye socket, pushing the eye back into his head. Sir Pete McGee stood, crossbow drawn and reloaded, ready to fire again.

Sir Charge roared and pulled out the arrow, his eyeball stuck on the end of it. Pete watched in horror as the zombie took the eyeball off the arrow, licked it clean, and stuck it back in his head. This wasn't going to be easy.

Pete holstered his crossbow and drew the dagger Sir Loinsteak had given him on his journey as a twelve-year-old. The dagger glowed, fitting perfectly as always into its owner's grip. Suddenly it swung his arm around and chopped off the hand of Sir Pryse, who had been making a sneaky attack from behind. Sir Pryse cried out in horror as his hand, still holding his sword, flew into a bush. Pete smiled. The dagger would still seek out his enemies. The battle was afoot.

And what a battle. It was eleven versus two, but the two had heart. They could not kill the zombie knights, only slow them, and so slow them they did. Swords stabbed through hearts. Arrows were fired. Legs were chopped off. Arms were chopped off. Heads were chopped off. Stabbing. Slicing. Nothing. None of them would die … again. More than once.

Sir Mountable shocked Pete. He had speed for an old man, and skills he had not shown before. They fought side-by-side, and they fought back-to-back, repelling all that the zombies could throw at them.

Pete was struck time and again, but he would not fall. At one stage his dagger was knocked from his hand, and he resorted to punching one of the zombies in the face. Unfortunately the face was a mess of mush, and it grossed Pete out more than having any impact on the knight. Pete withdrew his hand and flicked the goo at the zombie knight, who simply ate it. It was disgusting, and Pete was thrown off guard, allowing himself to be grabbed from behind. He struggled, but he was held fast. His dagger lay on the ground. He closed his eyes, ready for the final blow.

Lightning cried out and charged in but was knocked aside by one of the zombies, who bashed the horse on the side of the head, leaving Lightning unconscious on the ground.

Sir Mountable also charged to Pete's defence but there were too many against him, and he had no chance. He was overwhelmed and knocked off his feet. Pete cried out, his mentor knight in trouble. He stomped back, the move that had worked on Smithers, but there was no foot to stomp on. He realised, when he saw an armless zombie knight kicking Sir Mountable, that he was being held only by arms and nothing else. He cried out again and used all his strength to run backwards, smashing the arms against a tree, shattering the bones within.

It knocked the wind out of Pete too, but he would not be stopped. He rejoined the battle, firing arrows as he ran. Once out of arrows he swooped down and picked up his dagger on the run, leaping into the fray, swinging his arm left and right, slicing zombies, desperate to save his mentor. The Black Knights turned on him, a semi-circle of nine-and-a-half knights. Yes. Nine-and-a-half. One had no arms, Sir Charge was standing over Sir Mountable, and Sir Vyvor stood with the horses, watching.

Pete hesitated and backed off a little. He saw Lightning slowly getting to his feet. He saw Sir Mountable on the ground, blood pouring from his wounds. The zombie knights closed in. One of them even licked its lips. Pete shuddered. He grunted as he backed into a tree. The semi-circle tightened. Pete flashed his dagger, but they continued to close in.

‘LEAVE HIM!'

The two most beautiful words Pete had ever heard, even though they were spoken by the grossest thing he had ever seen. It was Sir Charge. The other zombie knights halted, confused.

‘I have been told of the flower's location,' Sir Charge said. ‘We leave now. The boy is nothing. Leave him here.'