looking as though it might melt with disappointment.
‘Of course it’s for you!’ Marloynne cried. ‘What good is a knight without a trusty steed?’
Pete breathed out a sigh of relief and the horse imitated him, snorting, making everyone laugh. Pete hugged his arm tightly around Marloynne.
‘This is the best!’ he said. ‘How did you how did you how did you?’
Marloynne laughed again.
‘I’ve been saving up for a while now. Ashlyn and I wanted to thank you for bringing us back together, and nothing we thought of seemed right. Except this,’ he said, stroking the horse. ‘When I was accepted back to the castle, I told the King that I would only accept the job if he could promise there would be a horse I could buy at the end of six months’ service.
I said to him, “Look here, King man, if you don’t give me what I want, well, you don’t get my skills” … or something like that anyway. It wasn’t exactly that, but there was no begging or anything … well, maybe a little, but I was strong when I begged, I didn’t get down on my knees … just one knee, but that was only because … ’
Pete cut him off with a punch to the arm.
‘Shut up and let me enjoy my horse,’ he said.
Marloynne nodded and looked over at Ashlyn, who walked over with Mrs McGee. They stood outside the pen, leaning on the fence.
‘There is one other present we have for you Pete,’ Ashlyn said. ‘It’s not actually a present, but more a question.’
Pete had no idea what she was talking about.
‘Marloynne has asked me to marry him,’ Ashlyn said. ‘I accepted, of course, and we are to be wed. We haven’t set a date yet, but we would like you to be our best man.’
‘He’s only fourteen,’ Marloynne cut in. ‘Can we really call him a man? Maybe best almost-man is better.’
Ashlyn stopped his teasing with a glare, and then she looked at Pete.
‘Well, Pete? What do you think?’
Pete leapt up and punched the air, whooping with delight.
‘WOOO! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER! YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED? SO AWESOME! OF COURSE I’LL BE YOUR BEST MAN! YOU HEAR THAT, NEW HORSE? I AM THE BEST MAN!’
With that he started running around the pen, whooping again. His horse followed him, jumping and prancing and trying to punch the air, but it’s hard when you’re a horse and you’re running and prancing. The others watched and laughed, except for Marloynne, who ran out of the pen to avoid being run over by the crazy kid and his crazy horse.
He watched as more bones and rotting flesh started to poke through the earth. He wondered how many there would be, and why they had been chosen. He also wondered if he would recognise any of the other knights. Even if they had been from his time, they would be in various states of decay.
He himself felt unrecognisable, what with the protruding bones, the rotting flesh, the eyes that bobbled around in his head, the smell … actually, the smell was pretty similar. Baths hadn’t been very popular back in the day.
Sir Charge rubbed his chin and almost lost his head. Literally. He had died when a sword had slashed his neck, partially severing his head. He pulled it down lower, his head that is, to try and stick it on a little better. The head wobbled but was somewhat more secure than it had been. He would have to be careful of that.
He wondered anew how many others would rise, and how they had died. They would be of little use to him unless they were fully functional. He presumed they had been restored to the world for some purpose, but that did not bother him greatly. He had tired of acting the good knight, and he didn’t believe that he would have to do it in the state he was in. If anything, he assumed being undead gave him licence to do as he pleased.
Another body burst through the surface. That was the tenth one, including himself. Sir Charge smiled, rotten teeth showing through black, shredded gums. This would be a fine order indeed.
Pete finished playing with the horse. He still had to think up a name for it, but nothing had come to mind just yet. He thought maybe he would wait and see what its personality was like first. For now, Horsey Horse Horse would have to do.
He gave Horsey Horse Horse an apple to chew on and raced inside. The sun was high in the sky, and Pete knew he had to get to the castle by midday or he would be too late.
He did not want to be too late.
In his room he slipped on the new jacket from his mum, and into the right inside pocket he slipped his most prized possessions: the tiger eye crystal from Ashlyn and the note from his mum. He squeezed the crystal before sliding it into the pocket, and then he read the note his mum had given him seven years earlier. He read it less these days, partly because he knew it word for word, and partly because he was getting older, and as you get older you tend to do those sorts of things less and less. But he read it now.
You are Sir Pete McGee, a brave and noble man, slayer of monsters and righter of wrongs. You are strong in many ways. Believe in yourself and the world will see just how great a man with one arm can be.
Pete folded the note and placed it carefully into his jacket pocket. The paper was becoming worn, the ink fading, but it meant more to Pete than anything. He patted it, then took his dagger and slid that into the holster attached to his belt, slung his pack over his shoulder, and he was ready. After hugs, handshakes, and cries of good luck, Pete left his family and went over to Horsey Horse Horse.
‘What am I going to call you?’ he thought out loud. The horse whinnied and snorted hot air onto Pete’s face. Stinky Breath? No, that was no name for a knight’s noble steed. Pete smiled. He stroked his new pet’s nose and then it was time to go. It was time to make his dream a reality. He was going to be a knight!
Eleven knights. Sir Charge looked at them all. They had pulled themselves together and were slowly gathering their bearings. It was odd. He did recognise them. Every single one. But it was odd. They were all from the Order of Starry, Starry Knights. He himself had not been of that order, or of any order in fact. He had been more of a freelance knight. He didn’t particularly mind that, although it would have been nice to have been asked to join an order at least once.
Sir Charge shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the present day. After making sure it was back on tight, he set about analysing his fellow zombie knights. What was odd was this:
(a) He was the only zombie knight that was not of the Order of Starry, Starry Knights.
(b) Their leader, Sir Pass, was not there.
This confused Sir Charge. They had been resurrected for a reason, of that much he was sure. In that case, Sir Pass would have been the first one to be resurrected. Surely. He was the bravest of the brave; the strongest of the strong; the tallest of the tall; the noblest of the noble; and the least stinky of the stinky. And, to be honest, although the rest of the order were brave and noble and blah blah blah, they weren’t all that bright. Sir Pass was though, and he had been able to use that intelligence to lead the others to greatness.
So why, Sir Charge thought,