Knights and Bikes, page 2
“That’s where I’m having a few problems,” said the head. “After centuries bobbing around in the sea with only fish for company, my memory isn’t what it used to be. The only thing that springs to mind is a chalice.”
“A chalice?” Demelza scratched her nose. “That’s like, a fancy cup?”
“Quite. This one was rather plain and made of wood rather than gold, but I remember Sir Bude saying it was rather special. It belonged to a king buried here on Penfurzy. I believe he was rather famous.”
“This cup,” said Nessa. “I’m guessing it was buried with the king, right?” Demelza noticed the head take a sudden interest in the Slinky spring on the shelf next to him rather than meet Nessa’s gaze. “How did you get hold of it then?”
The pickled knight nudged the Slinky off the side of the shelf and ooohed and ahhhed as it climbed down two shelves before dropping to the ground. He peered at the girls to see if his distraction had worked. It hadn’t.
“Well?” said Demelza.
The pickled knight sighed. “Sir Bude, Sir Cubert, and I were carousing one summer’s eve and, you know how it is, one of them dared me to break into the Great Barrow.”
“What’s car-OW-zzzzing?” asked Demelza. She liked the sound of the word.
“Boozing and being foolish and loud,” said Nessa. ‘What’s the Great Barrow?’
“I know, I know!” Demelza stretched her hand up to the ceiling, then went pink as she remembered she wasn’t in school and put it down very quickly. “It’s a mound of earth that people from a long-long-long-long-long-long time ago were buried inside. Mom said there’s a few on Penfurzy. One got all dug up when they built that new housing estate. There was all pottery and bones an’ stuff in it. Connan Lenteglos said the houses are all haunted by the people who were buried there.”
“AS I WAS SAYING…” hollered the pickled knight, tired of being ignored during his own story. “Bravely, I entered the tomb. Inside was a great throne upon which sat a sword, shield, crown and a cup. The cup didn’t look particularly special, so I took it to prove I went all the way inside. Besides, I couldn’t remember where I’d left my tankard and I needed something to drink mead out of.”
“What’s so special about the cup then?” asked Nessa.
“I’m not sure, but I always felt wonderful after I drank out of it. It seemed to cure any illness I had. I think it might have something to do with why I survived my head being lopped off and bobbing around in the sea for centuries, even outside the magical curse on Penfurzy Castle that preserved my fellow knights.”
“So, you just have to return the cup then?” said Demelza. “Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“Yes, well…” sniffed the pickled knight. “It would be, if I could remember where the barrow was, or what happened to the cup.”
“You don’t have any idea where either of them are?” asked Nessa.
The knight leaned over to scratch his forehead thoughtfully on the corner of a Rubik’s Cube. “I tattooed the location of the barrow on my arm so that I could go back and—” He stopped and glanced quickly at Nessa. “Borrow some more stuff. The tattoo should still be on my body.”
“Nope,” said Demelza. “They found your bones on top of the tower where your head got chopped off. The birds an’ worms had eaten you all up and now your skellington is in the museum in town…” She paused as a look of horror passed over the knight’s face. “It’s a very nice skellington,” she added quickly. “Very clean, no maggoty bits at all.”
“Then all is lost,” moaned the knight. “I am fated to wander this land, searching for a lost cup to return to a place that can never be found. A lonely traveler on an impossible quest. Doomed to forever roam—mmmph!” He stopped mid-lament as Nessa slapped her hand over his mouth.
“Quit the dramarama! Of course we’ll find it. You’ve got me, D, and Captain Honkers on your team. Quest accepted. But first,” she turned to Demelza, “I need a new steed!”
Chapter Three
NESSA’S NEW STEED
Boop-boop-beep-boop-beep-beeeep-booop!
“Whoa! What about this one?” whooped Demelza, pushing all of the red buttons on a futuristic-looking white bicycle until its boops and beeps filled the little bike shop. “It has a digital speedometer. Diiiiigitaaaal! It’s like a computer on wheels.”
“Meh. It just makes noises, it doesn’t do anything really cool,” said Nessa. “I want to spend the money Mom and Dad gave me on a bike I can do rad tricks on.
Noisy toys are for babies.”
“Yeah, babies,” muttered Demelza, shifting her heavy backpack on her shoulder and moving on to a different bike with chunky wheels and stunt pegs.
Nessa whistled as she looked it up and down. “Now that is one sweet ride,” she said, climbing onto the bike, gripping the wide handlebars and bouncing up and down. “Feels good and the black and chrome looks wicked.”
“Good choice,” said the store owner as he left the counter to join them.
“Nessa, this is Oba Sekibo,” said Demelza, tipping her head back to look aaaaall the way up at him. “He was a champion racer before he set up this shop. He knows everything about bikes!”
“I built that one myself,” the man said proudly as he shook Nessa’s hand. “Just finished yesterday. There’s been a lot of interest in it already. It’s fast, but I built it more for stunts and off-road cycling. Those tires will handle anything, and the seat will keep you comfy no matter how hard you land.”
“That’s very important,” said Demelza, thinking of the long padded seat on her own bike. “Who’s been looking at it, Oba?”
He nodded towards the window where a scowling boy with curly brown hair was standing, nose to the glass, watching them checking out the bike. A lanky, slightly cross-eyed dog sat by his feet, drooling onto the window sill.
“Connan Lenteglos,” Demelza hissed through her teeth. “The most annoying, lyingest, worstest boy at school. Nessa, you have to buy this bike. It’s far too cool for him to get his stink all over it!”
“What extras can I get if I buy it right now?” asked Nessa.
Oba rubbed his chin as he walked around the shop, grabbing items from the shelves and slapping them down on the counter.
“Reflectors, front and back lights, some neon beads for the spokes, a bike lock, and a puncture repair kit.”
“Ooooh!” said Demelza as Nessa looked at the haul, then picked up a yellow plastic siren with a little microphone attached.
“And this?” Nessa looked Oba straight in the eyes.
“Done,” he nodded. ‘I’ll attach everything and you can pick it up tomorrow, just in time for Halloween. One more thing…” He ran his hand over the plain black frame. “I like to name all of my bikes before I sell them, but I didn’t have time to paint one on this beauty. Any ideas?”
Nessa and Demelza looked at each other and smiled.
“Neon Justice TWO!” said Nessa, holding up her hand with two fingers raised in a peace symbol.
“In honor of a brave steed who left us too soon,” said Demelza, hand over her heart.
Connan was nowhere to be seen when they left the shop.
“Probably off crying because you’ve got the bestest bike on Penfurzy!” said Demelza. “Well, after you,” she whispered to her own bike, hugging it and dinging its bell as she wheeled it towards the park.
They searched through the grass for some of the year’s last conkers as they walked under the horse chestnut trees by the bandstand.
“In my last school, I had a conker so tough it could split concrete,” said Nessa as they sat down on the bandstand and dropped the conkers into Demelza’s backpack.
“Desist!” shouted the backpack.
“Oops, sorry!” whispered Demelza. She peeked in and saw the pickled knight’s watery blue eyes glaring up at her. “I forgot you was in there.”
“Forgot I was here?” growled the knight. “I trust you haven’t forgotten your promise to assist me on my quest!”
“Of course not!” said Demelza. “We was just picking a new steed for Nessa so’s we can start questing for your lost cup.”
“The quest might not take as long if you could suggest some places for us to look,” said Nessa.
“Dem-elz-a, Dem-elz-a, I knew that I could smellz-ya!” sang a voice that made Demelza’s hands and toes curl into claws.
She spun around. “Con-nan, the…er…” Demelza spat as Connan Lenteglos laughed at her struggle to think of anything that rhymed with his name.
He threw a ball for his bow-legged dog to chase. “Why you talking to yer bag, Smellza?” he asked as he waggled a stick between the bandstand railings to break the spider webs glistening there.
“None of your beeswax.” Demelza hoisted the backpack onto her shoulders with only the slightest grunt from the pickled knight.
“You were talking about treasure. You hunting more treasure? Like the magic disappearing treasure you lied about finding in the castle?” A big spider made a dash for the safety of the handrail as Connan broke its web.
“We DID find treasure. Didn’t we, Nessa?” said Demelza. She glared at Connan as he followed the spider along the rail, trying to get it to run onto his stick. “Just like we’re going to find the magic lost cup of the king—” She stopped as Nessa gave her a little nudge.
“What magic lost cup?” Connan sneered, as he finally caught the spider on the end of the stick.
Demelza zipped her lips closed.
“Yeah. Like I thought. Making it up,” said Connan. “Anyway, I’m just warning you and your friend to keep your mitts off that bike you were looking at. That’s mine.”
“Should have been quicker then, Con-man,” said Nessa, waving the bike shop receipt in front of him. “I’m picking her up in the morning.”
“It’s not a her!” wailed Connan. “And that bike’s mine, not yours!” He flicked the stick, sending the huge spider flying at Nessa’s face. She caught it mid-air, placed it gently back on the railing and took a step towards wide-eyed Connan.
“General Barkley!” squeaked Connan, looking for his dog who was bounding around happily, searching for other dogs to sniff. Nessa took another step towards him. “Baaark-leee!” he shouted again.
The dog bounced over, one ear inside out, eyes crossed as he sniffed and growled at Demelza’s backpack. The bag growled back. Demelza spun around to keep it away from the dog, but he was already tugging at the canvas.
“You got that dumb goose in there?” said Connan. “The General loves goose for dinner. He—”
He stopped as the dog let out a huge yelp and pulled his nose out of the hole he had torn in the backpack, tucked his tail between his legs and raced away across the park, tripping up Connan as he tried to grab him by the collar.
“Get back here, stupid dog. It’s just a dumb goose!” shouted Connan as he gave chase. ‘You’d better be lying about that bike, or you’re dead meat!’ he yelled over his shoulder.
“Smell you later!” Nessa yelled after him.
“Do you think he heard much?” asked Demelza.
“Nah,” said Nessa. “He’s just annoyed that I’ve got the raddest bike on Penfurzy.”
“SECOND raddest,” Demelza whispered to her own bike.
“So, your Pickled Knightness”—Nessa peered into the backpack—“isn’t there anything you remember about what happened to the cup?”
The head wriggled away from a Rubik’s Cube that was poking him in the temple and sighed, “Alas, no. But didst I hear mention of All Hallow’s Eve?”
“Halloween? Yeah, it’s tomorrow,” said Nessa. “Why?”
“On that night the border between the worlds is thin and the dead walk among us. Perhaps we will meet someone who knows what happened to the cup.”
“Someone…dead?’ asked Demelza, not even surprised. She’d lost count of the number of dead people she’d spoken to since beginning her first quest with Nessa. “Where will we find them?”
“Wherever the most humans are gathered,” said the knight. “The life energy of the living attracts them, like moths to flames.”
“So, I guess we need to go wherever everyone else is tomorrow night?” sighed Nessa, looking to Demelza who punched the air with excitement.
“We’re going triiiiick or treeeating!” she shouted.
Chapter Four
THE PENFURZY REBEL BICYCLE CLUB
Nessa wheelied up to Demelza’s house early the next morning on her sparkling new bike which bore the words NEON JUSTICE II in green neon paint along the jet-black frame. Demelza shielded her eyes as the sun glanced off the perfect chrome, and promised herself she’d chip some of the mud off her own bike to see if the mudguards were still shiny under there.
After a breakfast of Yarg and crackers, the day was spent in Demelza’s camper preparing Halloween costumes and packing supplies for their quest. Into backpacks went flashlights, dice, a pack of playing cards, water balloons, bubbles, a whistle, rubber gloves, a penknife, drawing pins, a ruler, a plunger, a package of felt-tip pens, a first aid kit, pickled onion flavored chips, and a bottle of cherryade.
“What hast thou there?” asked the pickled knight as Demelza grabbed a box of bangers from a drawer. She took out one of the little twists of white paper and threw it out of the door where it exploded on the camper steps with a sharp BANG!
“They’ve got gunpowder and grit inside them,” she explained.
“And what be they for?” asked the knight.
“Duh! For going BANG!” said Demelza.
“Whaddya think, D?” said Nessa, pulling on the cardboard breastplate and helmet she had just finished painting.
“Awesome!” Demelza ran her hand over the silver-painted dragon emblem on the breastplate. “Give me a hand with mine.”
As the sun dropped lower in the autumn sky, two knights left the little camper. They attached the poles that held their banners onto the backs of their wheeled steeds. Each banner displayed the image of a sword, which could also be a bike wheel and handlebars if you looked at it the right way.
“Cool banners,” said Demelza’s dad as he hurried over with his camera.
“It’s the logo of our gang, the Penfurzy Rebel Bicycle Club,” interrupted Demelza before her dad—who had once been a roadie for a rock band—could start telling embarrassing stories about his old band, Pontefract. “Nessa made up the name and I designed the logo.” She spat on her hand and high fived Nessa, then they fist bumped, tickled elbows, bumped hips and punched their right fists high in the air. “That’s our official handshake.”
“Unhygienic, but not bad,” said Demelza’s dad. He loaded the film in his camera. “All right, say cheeeeese!”
“YAAAAARG!” shouted Demelza and Nessa, holding their swords aloft.
“One more!”
“Get in here, Sir Honk-a-lot,” called Demelza as her dad advanced the film again. Captain Honkers waddled between the bikes and spread his wings wide. He honked loudly through his tiny cardboard helmet as the bright flash lit up the whole camper park. They posed for several more pictures with their shields, foam swords and cardboard lances while the pickled knight played completely dead in the basket Nessa had fixed to the front of her bike.
“That’s enough now, Dad,” said Demelza. “There won’t be any candy left by the time we get to town.”
“OK. Have a good time. Just one question.” He pointed at the pickled knight who was letting his tongue loll out and had rolled his eyes back in his head so that only the whites were visible. “What’s with the moldy old melon? I’m not sure it matches your costumes.”
“Oh, this?” Nessa pulled the knight’s head out of the basket by his hair and held him up. “This is a severed head! We made it to warn everyone what we do to our enemies!”
“Ah, very good. Very, er, realistic,” said Demelza’s dad, flinching. “Off you go then. Have a good time.”
He waved as they cycled out of the campground and down the hill towards town. Demelza wore her jacket fastened like a cape over her armor, with the hood up under her helmet. The cape fluttered behind her as they freewheeled down the hill. Captain Honkers’ own tiny cape flapped as he sat proudly between her handlebars, beak turned into the wind as they sailed into town. The streets on the way were already starting to fill with ghosts, goblins, Frankenstein’s monsters, Draculas and witches, all carrying carved pumpkins with little candles inside.
They knocked on the doors of people who Demelza knew and soon their pillowcase candy-bag looked like a dentist’s worst nightmare. Demelza’s jaw was aching from all the candy they had eaten before they even reached the center of town,
“Urgh, toffee!” Nessa stopped and leaned her bike against a wall so that she could pick the brown sweets out of the bag and shove them into Demelza’s pockets. “Why do old people always give toffee?”
“Offing ong iff offee!” said Demelza through sticky teeth.
“What is the point of this tomfoolery?” the pickled knight demanded from Nessa’s basket, causing a small ghost who had stopped to count his sweets in front of them to shriek with fright and run after his friends.
“To get candy of course!” said Demelza.
“Hmmph!” grunted the knight. “You modern folk have corrupted Samhain! At the start of the dark half of the year we celebrated with fire and drink and honored the dead, for they are closer to us on this day—”
“Whoa!” interrupted Demelza as they rounded the corner to an incredible sight.
The town center was thronged with actual, real ghosts! Transparent shimmering ghosts, Victorian ghosts, medieval ghosts, ancient ghosts, ghosts in flares and flowery shirts, all were drifting around alongside humans who didn’t even notice they were there.
