with Pete McGee. Smell the smells, see the colours, rejoice in the good times and feel like clipping Larson Smithers over the ear.
Can you do that?
For me?
Good. You ready then? Okay. Get comfy and let’s go.
Ahem hem …
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT IN THE JOURNEY THAT IS THE LIFE OF PETE McGEE. IT’S A STORY OF BRAVERY, PERSISTENCE, HONOUR, BULLIES AND, WAIT FOR IT … ZOMBIE KNIGHTS! SO PUT ON YOUR SEATBELTS, TIGHTEN UP THAT HELMET, ADJUST YOUR KNEE AND ELBOW PADS, AND ENJOY … PETE McGEE: DAWN OF THE ZOMBIE KNIGHTS.
Well go on then, these pages aren’t going to turn themselves!
What you are about to read has never been revealed to the public before.
What you are about to read describes the origin of the Wilderene Flower, its long-time guard Dazene, and also the secondary protection that its creator provided.
What you are about to read has been put into a normal font, because Arlyle Motain wrote like a doctor: you could barely read it.
What you are about to read is something that would have come in very handy for Pete McGee, but he never even saw it.
Dear Diary,
It becomes worse. They are everywhere. Those that seek my flower. Those that seek to use it for their own gain and not in the manner for which it was created.
The Wilderene Flower. Still I do not know why I named it thus; I know only that it sounds pleasant to my ears.
The sounds of the masses are not so pleasant.
I am not crazy.
They bray all day. They bray all night. No matter what words they say, although I have told no-one of its existence, all I hear is their desire to take my flower. All I see is their desire to abuse its gifts.
I know that those who knock on my door seek the flower when it is hidden in my trunk.
I know that the fools who bump me in the street seek the flower when it is hidden beneath my cloak.
I know that every sweet, delicious apple pie I purchase has obvious and poorly hidden poisoned apples, designed to be rid of me, the only protection the Wilderene Flower has.
The town drunkard, screeching that he will kill me and then take my flower and have a bottle of whiskey … methinks he seeks my flower also.
My flower.
My creation.
Its pollen, if swallowed, cures any illness and prevents further illnesses from entering the body. This is to ensure humankind continues to evolve and become stronger.
Its scent, if smelt, will grant the one who smells it one wish, whatever his heart desires. This is to ensure humankind’s dreams are fulfilled.
Its thorns, if they touch blood, will kill dead the owner of that blood, and not in a manner pleasant for any who either experience or observe it. This is to ensure that the flower is treated with care, and not grabbed harshly, or attempted to be torn apart, or eaten.
I am not crazy.
They seek my flower.
Could it be? Could that which I have created with love and honesty to preserve man’s future bring about its downfall? In the wrong hands, could this flower grant immortality to those who wish power and world domination?
I have no reason to believe this isn’t true and so I must protect the flower.
I have set in motion the steps required to do this.
I attended a castle luncheon in the company of knights of the realm. Having aided the King many times in the past, gaining an invitation was simple indeed. I know the knights wel, both personally and their deeds, and thus I had the Order of Starry, Starry Knights in mind for my mission.
Brave.
Honourable.
Strong.
Loyal.
Determined.
Twelve knights.
A drop of potion in the drink of each.
A drop of potion imbued with magic. They will pass from this world into death, as we all must when the time arrives, but they will not do so in the manner of normal men. These twelve knights will rest underground until they are required.
I will place the flower at the base of the great oak, where I shall guard it myself. If it so happens I am overcome and the flower is removed, the twelve knights will rise from their tombs. From that point on it shall be their duty, their honour, their life’s purpose, to return the flower to the base of the oak, and to defend and protect it with their, wel, not their lives, for they are already dead, so I imagine it would be to defend the Wilderene Flower with their honour and what remains of their partial lives.
One has been informed of my plan. The others shall discover it only when they are required to perform their duty. Sir Fing will take care of that.
I shall transform myself into a creature I shall call Dazene. Again, a pleasant enough sounding name to my ears. As Dazene, I shall protect the flower. I shall be immune to the passing of time, ageless. I shall appear as the greatest fear of those who pursue my flower, for if they are to have its gifts they must overcome such fears and prove they are worthy.
Evil will not be able to overcome this, for evil relies on the fear of others to make itself strong.
This, now, shall be my final entry.
This shall also be the final time I appear on this earth as a human being. As I lower my nib, I shall drink of the potion that will transform me into Dazene.
The future of the flower is assured.
Pity those who attempt to take
