Pete McGee: Dawn of the Zombie Knights. Adam Wallace

to leading the order.

      Sir Charge smiled to himself. Yes. That was definitely it.

      ‘Sir Charge? Why for art we here? And where, pray tell, is Sir Pass? I must say, I do feel a little shocked at what has become of us.’

      Sir Charge looked up and saw Sir Pryse standing above him. Sir Charge stood gingerly, still getting used to his new state.

      ‘I do not know, Sir Pryse. This I can honestly say. Do any of us truly know why we are here?’

      ‘Yo Dude, verily I do.’

      That was Sir Fing. Sir Charge rubbed his temples, small flakes of skin dropping off as he did so. Sir Fing always spoke in a manner different to the rest of the knights, and was extremely casual about everything.

      ‘Truly, Sir Fing?’ Sir Charge asked, one eyebrow raised. ‘Doth thou truly know of our condition?’

      Sir Fing nodded and walked over, his left leg dragging along the ground.

      ‘’Tis seriously truthful, fellow knight dude. I, and I alone, saw that gnarly Warlock Arlyle Motain slip a little potion with true sneakiness into our drinks. ’Twas at the King’s feast to celebrate all knights of the realm.’

      The other zombie knights gathered around to listen. The stench was truly unforgettable. They all ahhh-yessed as they remembered the luncheon Sir Fing spoke of.

      ‘But what of Sir Pass?’ asked Sir Pryse. ‘Why for did he not return with us? ’Tis shocking to me.’

      The others murmured their agreement. Sir Fing ran his hands through his hair. (It wasn’t actually his hair though. He didn’t have a helmet on, but he also didn’t have any hair. He actually ran his hands through some worms that were snacking on what flesh was left on his skull.)

      ‘Yo Dude, ’tis a tricky question, and I do not know the answer. I do know we are here for one reason, and one reason only. I confronted Motain and demanded I be told what he had just done. He did tell me, and then swore me to secrecy until we arose. Which is, like, now.

      We must retrieve a flower that Motain created. It holds gnarly magic. Then we must return it to the great oak, replant it, and protect it forever more. Wooooaaaahhh.’

      The Order of Starry, Starry Knights stood as tall as they were able. They had been given a mission. An honourable mission at that. It was truly a great reason to be undead.

      Sir Charge, however, was thinking. He too remembered that luncheon, and he well remembered swapping his drink with Sir Pass’s. It was an easy enough ruse.

      ‘Gadzooks, look over there,’ he had cried, and when Sir Pass looked, the drinks were swapped. The trick had only been performed because Sir Pass had raspberry ale, and Sir Charge loved raspberry ale.

      But that drink had obviously had more benefits than tasty deliciousness. It had granted Sir Charge the opportunity to rise from the dead, and to inflict his kind of power upon the world. It had given him the opportunity to lead an order of knights. The rotting teeth flashed dully again. They would get the flower. Leading the knights on this mission was exactly what he was going to do.