The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee (7 page)

ater that same day, King Cyril the Glory-Seeker also departed. Marloynne was with him, sooking about the food as usual. It wasn't long before the King had had enough.

‘Good God, man, do you ever stop? I really don't know what that peasant girl ever saw in you.'

Marloynne's head swung around. Peasant girl?

Something tried to burst forth from his memory but the King saw the change in Marloynne's eyes and quickly called for Faydon. Faydon directed Marloynne to the horse he was to ride, all the while whispering in his ear, brainwashing him, removing any thoughts of Ashlyn.

Finally King Cyril the 23rd and his men proceeded out of the town gates. Pete McGee's head start was not great, but he had the advantage of knowing he was not the only one in search of the Wilderene Flower.

While his rivals began their journey on horseback, Pete walked. He actually enjoyed walking, being able to take everything in without having to worry about anything except going forward. After four hours solid though, it was time for a break. The day was a hot one, the sun beating down. Even in the shade Pete was unable to escape the heat. He sat down under a tree by the side of the road and opened his pack. Taking out his flask he drank deeply. The route he had chosen ran alongside the river, so water wasn't going to be a problem. Food, however, would be sparse later in the journey, and Pete wondered how much he should eat at this early stage.

Putting down his drink, the young traveller looked along the road. A little further down he noticed a roadside trader. Pete packed up his supplies and started walking once more. Upon reaching the trader he saw that there were drinks of water available. (At three gold pieces a bottle! Next to a river? What a rip-off!). He also saw that there was food. Fruit, sweets, and oh yes, hamburgers. Pete had never had a hamburger in his life, but he had heard about them. Dropping his pack, he lay the small amount of money that his mother had given him for the journey on the ground to count it. A broad smile appeared when he saw that he had more than enough to buy a burger. It would be a luxury, but it would be so good. He looked each way, as if to make sure he wouldn't be seen doing something selfish, then he walked up to the counter.

‘Ummm, excuse me Sir, may I have a burger please? With the lot?'

The vendor had been watching Pete count out his money. He stared at Pete's empty, folded sleeve for a second and then smiled and nodded.

‘Of course young man, and I will give you a little discount because, well, ummm, I can see that you really want this burger.'

Pete wasn't sure if the man felt sorry for him because of his one arm, or because of his tatty clothes, but he didn't care. He was used to that sort of thing, and the less money he spent at this early stage the better. He just smiled and watched as the man made up the burger. A bun, a slab of meat, lettuce, cheese, gherkin slices, and some mysterious sauce that the man said was special, but also secret.

Pete handed over the money, feeling a little guilty at how much he was spending, even with the discount, and took the burger.

‘Thankyou Sir.'

The man smiled. Pete put his burger on the ground, slung his pack over his shoulder, picked up the burger again and walked off, trying to eat as he went. It was too tricky though, his one arm unable to steady the pack while he held the burger. So he sat by the side of the road and ate. Once finished, he licked every drop of burger juice off his fingers, picked up his pack, and walked down the dusty road once more. The burger had been as good as he had imagined, except for one ingredient. And so it was that behind our hero a rat, two crows and a stray dog that hadn't eaten in a week all turned away without touching the gherkin slices that had been tossed on the ground.

Why is it that gherkins are forever doomed to be flung aside onto the ground, or thrown at the ceiling to stick there for weeks? Probably because they taste rotten. Let's move on.

As the evening closed in on Pete he wondered where he would rest for the night. The town was well behind him now, so options were limited. He wanted to keep moving for as long as possible, but he had walked so far already that his legs were starting to go all wobbly. Not a good sign. Even as he walked, the warm evening breeze seemed to be gently closing his eyes. Slowly, slowly Pete began to drift away, until he was basically sleepwalking. A sudden jolt brought him back to his senses. His eyes snapped open as he stumbled backwards. Catching his balance, Pete realised that he had crashed into a man. Well, at first glance you could easily define him as not only a man, but seemingly not a very nice man. Pete had always been taught by his mother not to judge a book by its cover, but the evidence seemed to be overwhelming here. The missing tooth, the black eye, the sword, the dirty name tag that said ROBBER. Pete McGee felt he had to say something.

‘Excuse me, Sir, I do apologise. By no means did I mean to run into you.'

The man smiled, showing broken and dirty teeth.

‘Entirely my fault.' His voice seemed laced with sarcasm. ‘Why, I could easily have avoided you if only I was a little quicker on my feet. Are you okay? That's by far the most important thing.'

Pete was anxious to get moving, feeling very nervous.

‘Yes, thank you. I'm fine. I'll just be going on my way now.'

‘Why not let me help you, young traveller? I will be happy to carry your pack and any expensive objects that are causing you undue stress.'

‘I'm very sorry, Sir, but your name tag doesn't fill me with confidence.'

‘What? My name tag? But it … Oh, I see what's happened.'

The man spat on his finger and scrubbed at the name tag. He removed some of the dirt to reveal it actually said ROBBERT.

‘You see, little boy, my name is actually Robbert. The double B is an example of my father's spelling ability.'

The ‘little boy' comment stung, and Pete McGee's voice went hard and determined.

‘Even so, good Sir, I ask you to remove yourself from my path so that I may continue on my way. I shall carry my own pack, thank you very much, and I shall be fine. Oh, and another thing …'

Pete spat on his hand and rubbed the name tag some more, until it revealed the words ROBBERT THE ROBBER.

‘AHA!' Pete baulked to the left and then dodged around Robbert to the right, though Robbert made no move to grab him. Pete ran and ran, not daring to look back, ignoring Robbert's shouts for him to do so. If he had looked, he would have seen Robbert rubbing his name tag totally clean and holding it up. It said: ROBBERT THE ROBBER STOPPER. Phone 9888 0808.

But Pete ran. He ran on wobbly jelly legs. He ran while his legs burned and screamed for him to stop and his pack seemed to grow heavier with every step. Eventually his legs could take it no more and he collapsed on the side of the road. He was asleep before he hit the ground.

t was almost noon of the next day before our young hero awoke. A dull, grey cloud-cover had replaced the harsh sun of the day before, making the temperature much more bearable. If it hadn't been for all the noise, Pete may have just kept on sleeping. He stood wearily, rubbing his eyes as things slowly came into focus through the sleepy haze. Coming towards him down the road was a man, a man blowing away merrily on his trumpet, playing the royal fanfare … but Pete thought the royal fanfare was only played to announce the King. Pete looked a little closer. It was the King! King Cyril the Hated and his best men and some other guy who looked nothing like a knight. Pete realised that the some other guy must be Marloynne. As the group drew closer, he saw that the man did fit Ashlyn's description, although he looked quite heavy and wore a nasty scowl on his face. He also seemed totally focussed on the sandwich he was devouring.

This was a great chance though, and Pete knew he could not afford to miss it. Although he didn't want to join the King and his men, he needed to try to make contact with Marloynne. He grabbed up his pack and raced over.

‘Your Majesty.' Pete tried to bow as he ran alongside the King's horse. Unfortunately his one arm was occupied trying to carry his pack and there was no counter-balance, which made him overbalance and end up sprawled on the side of the road. King Cyril the Could-Not-Possibly-Care-Less didn't even bother to look, while Marloynne sniggered wickedly. Pete stood up and brushed himself off before walking alongside the horses once more, leaving his pack where it lay.