The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee (11 page)

Using all of his strength, Pete shoved the fallen Mantril off his chest and stood up. His arm swung his body around and the dagger slashed with the momentum. There was another flash of light as a Mantril appeared in mid-air with a look of disbelief in its red eyes, a gaping wound in its throat. It vanished once again and landed with a thud on the ground. The cackling had ceased, and Sir Pete McGee, the brave knight, was now surrounded by a low hissing. He sensed the number of Mantrils growing as they were called to battle. It seemed to Pete as though they were actually enjoying this. He wasn't enjoying it so much, but he was in a zone. He relaxed his body and mind, channelling all his energy into the dagger.

‘Many of you will die this night, foul creatures,' he heard himself saying.

The hissing grew frenzied at the challenge and the battle resumed. Pete thrashed and slashed and thrust and ducked and dodged. He was struck again and again, the pain intense, but somehow he managed to stay standing. His dagger was like a switch as it continued to make Mantrils appear, their faces contorted with rage, agony and shock. The noise grew to fever pitch, a deafening buzz. Pete McGee swung around and came face-to-face with a Mantril about to strike, blue light surrounding it. The creature disappeared and Pete understood why it had been visible. Where the Mantril had once been stood Sir Loinsteak, his sword drawn, drops of dark blood staining its blade. He looked blurry to Pete, who assumed that it was the dust and the blood and the tears in his own eyes that were causing some sort of illusion. Sir Loinsteak smiled broadly.

‘There are not many remaining, Sir Pete. Let us finish them together.'

Sir Pete McGee felt his confidence grow at Sir Loinsteak's words. He gritted his teeth and fought on, inspired, overcoming the pain as the adrenalin rose once more in a final burst. Sir Loinsteak was amazing. He moved so quickly he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Pete willed himself on, his shoulder burning from exertion. He thrust his dagger into a Mantril as it dived towards Sir Loinsteak's back, the dagger piercing a black heart. The Mantril screamed a scream of death, and as the sound died into the night air, it was over.

‘Thou art brave, young Sir,' the Knight said proudly, seeming to blur even as he spoke the words.

Pete smiled at Sir Loinsteak before the pain overwhelmed him, and he collapsed into the knight's waiting arms.

As he faded into unconsciousness Pete felt himself being hoisted onto broad shoulders, before he was carried into the night and out of the Plains of Obon.

King Cyril the Extremely-Lucky ran on with Marloynne and Faydon. It had seemed that their time had come, the hot breath of a Mantril close behind when suddenly it had stopped short and run off, answering the cries of its brethren. Through the still night came the sound of Mantrils hissing, and then a voice.

‘Many of you will die this night, foul creatures.'

King Cyril almost laughed out loud as he realised his plan had worked. He had let Faydon think it was his idea to bring the boy along, but King Cyril the Modest had thought that another sacrifice would come in very handy to distract the Mantrils. He still had Marloynne, his main sacrifice, he still had Faydon, the Mantrils had business other than himself to deal with, and come morning they would be safe. He assumed it was just the three of them left, but men's lives weren't a concern to the King. By the next day they would be off the plains and only two days' march south of the Wilderene Flower. What awaited them there he didn't really know, but he didn't particularly care either. He was sure that his brains, Faydon's magic, and the sacrifice of Marloynne would be enough. As he walked he could hear cries in the distance and now he did laugh out loud, patting Faydon on the back. The three men walked into the night and out of the Plains of Obon.

rs McGee lay in bed. She had woken early, thinking she heard the sound of Pete rising, wishing it were so. She missed him terribly. The house had seemed empty since his departure. Pete's enthusiasm would fill the place; it was infectious. He was the only thing that made her feel as if she had something to offer. And he would make her laugh. They would laugh until she would begin to cough, and even as Pete held her, rubbing her back, she could sense the smile on his face. Once the coughing stopped, Pete would leave and she would hear him laughing in another room, getting it out of his system. At times like that she felt as though it didn't matter that she was sick. But now the house missed him, missed his laughter.

Mrs McGee was grateful for Ashlyn's company and help, but unfortunately her illness had gotten to the stage where she had a constant fever, she could barely move without stabbing pains running through her body, and the coughing fits were more frequent and more violent. Ashlyn did all she could to lessen the effects, but she was no doctor. Mrs McGee knew that she was not long for this world and, although she did not fear death, she hoped that her son would return soon. She wanted to see him one more time, even if it was just to say goodbye.

Pete McGee woke slowly, a cool breeze from the open window gently rousing him. His eyes didn't want to open, but he forced them to, as he realised that he had no idea where he was. He didn't even know when it was. He sat up and saw that he was dressed in strange clothes. His note! There, by the bed. His clothes had been cleaned and repaired, and were neatly piled, and the note from his mum rested on top, along with Ashlyn's crystal and his dagger. Breathing a sigh of relief he set his focus on trying to work out where he was. His last memory was of battling the Mantrils and of Sir Loinsteak's appearance. A quick glance around the room offered no clues as to his whereabouts. Pete walked over to the window and looked out at a sea of colour. The sun had risen only moments before and reds, yellows and oranges were plastered across the sky. The ground was covered with a smooth matting of grass, a pleasant change from the dusty, barren earth at the McGee's home. A river wound its way through the village, children laughing and splashing at its banks. Off to the right Pete saw a field of flowers, and to the left agricultural fields. People wandered around, smiling at each other, chatting. Pete could see the buildings had been worked into the land, rather than destroying it. They seemed to be made from mud, and all of them had designs etched into the walls, each house telling a story of its owners, past and present. It was amazing. The whole town exuded peacefulness. Pete McGee breathed in the fresh air and felt it soak into his body, refreshing him.

Pete took off the clothes he had been dressed in, feeling a need to be back in his own gear. After undressing he saw that his body was covered in wicked wounds. Gingerly he ran a finger along a massive scar down his thigh, only to find that it was just the tiniest bit sore. Pete smiled, and wondered again just where he could be. Wherever it was, they must have incredible doctors. A knock at the door stung him into action, as the realisation that he was just in his underwear set in.

‘Um, yep, okay, I'll be right there.'

Over the years Pete had worked out a fine system for dressing himself with just the one arm. Now, however, it was a mad scramble, and all systems went out the window. Legs went into the same trouser hole. His head went where his arm should have gone. He fell over twice trying to put on his shoes. Finally, after much grunting and groaning, he was dressed. He picked up the bedside table he had knocked over and stood in front of the door clutching his note and crystal.

‘Come in,' he called. At least now he might get an explanation of where he was and how he had been healed and how long it had been since his battle with the Mantrils and maybe even some information on King Cyril and Marloynne and where they were and if they had survived the plains and …

The door opened to reveal two people, a boy and a girl, who had to be twins. Pete guessed they were about his age, maybe a bit older. Both of them obviously spent a heap of time outdoors as they were tanned and fit. The boy was the taller of the two. He had short, spiky blonde hair and a non-stop grin, his eyes twinkling. He was full of energy and bounced into the room. The girl stood in the doorway and looked more concerned. Pete couldn't take his eyes off her though. She was a knockout, with long, blonde hair and eyes that seemed to stare right inside him.

‘Hey, you're tin-cup,' the boy said, still smiling widely.

‘Huh?' was Pete McGee's response, as he slowly took his focus off the girl.

‘You're tin cup, you know, you've finished your R & B and are tin-cup.'

Pete stared blankly and wondered what strange language he was talking. He glanced over at the girl. She smiled, shook her head, then walked in and gave the boy a clip over the ear.

‘Will you just stop it, Molloy? I told you no-one knows what you're talking about when you go on like that.'

‘But it's such a swimming way to Cannons Creek.'

‘STOP IT!' The girl turned back to Pete. ‘Sorry about that, but he loves speaking in rhyming slang. The problem is he makes it all up himself and leaves out stuff and it's stupid. So, like, a swimming way to Cannons Creek means a cool way to speak. Swimming is short for swimming pool, which then rhymes with cool. Cannons Creek rhymes with speak.

‘And R & B?' Pete queried. The boy snorted, as if the answer was perfectly obvious. The girl clipped him over the ear again before answering.

‘Rhythm and Blues. Rhymes with snooze. Tin cup meant up. Some of it's alright, but it takes ages to talk to him ‘cos you have to guess what he means half the time. You do get used to it though. By the way, I'm Tahnee, and this is my brother Molloy.'

‘I'm Pete McGee.' Pete held out his hand to Tahnee, but Molloy leapt in.

‘Pleased to one-way ya Pete.'

Pete's brain went into overdrive. One-way = one-way street = meet. Yeah! He was getting the hang of it. Molloy continued.

‘The knight told us who ya mangy cur.'

Mangy cur meant were. At least that's what Pete hoped it meant, otherwise he just got called a dog. Tahnee could see Pete was almost going cross-eyed trying to understand Molloy, so she jumped in to save him.