Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (4 page)

'And besides, you can tell by listening to them – they're not hungry.'

'Really?'

'Really. A hungry luper makes a particular sound. Sort of like a—'

Sebastian stopped talking. He had just heard something different. A rustling sound. His stomach seemed to fill suddenly with cold water.

'There's something behind us!' whispered Max. 'In the bushes!'

'I know!' Sebastian mouthed back at him. He reached out a hand to the hilt of his sword and began to slide it gently out of its scabbard. Now he could distinguish another sound mingled with the rustling: the dull, metallic clanking of armour.

'Oh, mercy!' whimpered Max. 'It's Brigands! They'll murder you and have me for dinner!' He thought for a moment. 'From what you've been saying, they might even have
you
for dinner!'

'Quiet!' hissed Sebastian. 'I'm trying to—'

'Who goes there?'
bellowed a deep voice from the midst of the thicket.

Sebastian gave up all thoughts of delicacy and slid the curved sword clear of its scabbard. He got to his feet and stood crouched, ready to meet any attacker that came at him from out of the undergrowth.

'J-just a traveller,' answered Sebastian, settling both hands around the leather grip and noting with a hint of dismay how the blade seemed to be quivering uncontrollably.

'Two
travellers,' Max corrected him.

'A traveller and his beast of burden,' ventured Sebastian.

'Oh, that's nice! A little while ago I was a partner; suddenly I'm downgraded to a beast of burden.'

'Will you shut up?' snarled Sebastian. He returned his attention to the bushes, trying to remember the advice his father had given him all those years ago. But nothing seemed to come to him. 'We mean no harm,' he said. 'We're just passing through.'

'Please don't eat us!' whimpered Max.

There was a long silence, during which Sebastian became aware of a rhythmic thudding sound in his ears. It was a few moments before he realized it was the sound of his own heart.

'Would you be willing to share your campfire with a fellow traveller?' boomed the deep voice.

'Er . . . possibly,' said Sebastian.

'It's some kind of trick,' whispered Max. 'He'll get you off guard and then stick a knife in your ribs!'

'Shush!' Sebastian took a deep breath and tried to gather his courage. 'Step forward and show yourself,' he demanded.

Another silence. He licked his dry lips and waited, for what seemed an age. He was abruptly aware of how small and vulnerable he was, camped out here in the midst of this great, featureless plain. And how could he be sure that there was just one person out there? It could be a band of rogues, one of them trying to get him off guard, while his friends sneaked round behind him. He turned his head to take a quick peek over his shoulder, then snapped his gaze back as the bushes parted.

Somebody stepped out into the open – but at first Sebastian saw nothing. Then he realized that he needed to lower his gaze considerably.

A man was walking towards him out of the bushes, a thick?set fellow wearing a battered-looking breastplate over a chain-mail singlet. He also wore a crested iron helmet, with elaborate nose and cheek protectors that covered his face entirely. In one hand he held a vicious-looking straight sword, and slung across his left shoulder was what looked like the carcass of a javralat, the fleet-footed quadrupeds that inhabited this part of the country.

The newcomer was undoubtedly a fierce warrior and a force to be reckoned with. But unlike most warriors, he was no higher than Sebastian's hip.

The stranger came to a halt a few steps from the fire, sheathed his sword and reached up a hand to remove his helmet. The hand seemed surprisingly big for one so small, and the action revealed a face that was strangely baby-like, with big blue eyes, jug ears and no sign of any hair whatsoever.

'Greetings, pilgrims,' said the manling, in that deep, resonant voice, which really didn't suit the face at all. 'I am Captain Cornelius Drummel, killer of Brigands, formally of the army of Queen Annisett.' He paused for a moment as though allowing this information to sink in; but getting no response, he continued, 'I see by the writing on your caravan that I am in the presence of Sebastian Darke, Prince of Fools.'

'Correct,' said Sebastian, making a formal bow.

'And Max,' added Max. 'His partner!'

Cornelius gave the buffalope a slightly perturbed look. 'You have a fine fire,' he observed. 'Visible at quite a distance. Not the most advisable thing in a remote spot like this, but a man must take his chances.' He reached back a hand and threw the plump body of the javralat to the ground at Sebastian's feet. 'I wonder if you'd allow me to cook my dinner over your fire? I've supped on raw meat these last few nights and I'm longing for something hot.'

Sebastian frowned. 'Well . . .'

'Of course, I'd be happy to share the food with you.'

Sebastian's eyes nearly popped out of his head. 'Then you . . . you would be most welcome!' he replied. 'And I would be more than willing to accept your generous offer.' He sheathed his sword and extended a hand to shake. The stranger took it in a powerful grip that made Sebastian wince and pumped it vigorously up and down.

'Watch him,' murmured Max under his breath. 'It's some kind of trick . . .'

Sebastian waved a dismissive hand at Max. 'Please, er . . . Captain Drummel. Make yourself comfortable.'

'Call me Cornelius. We're not on the parade ground now.'

'No, of course not. I – I've a metal spit in the caravan, it won't take but a moment to find it—'

'Don't turn your back on him!' hissed Max, then shut up as he noticed the newcomer glaring at him.

'He's a talkative one, your buffalope,' observed Cornelius as he unbuckled his breastplate. 'Most of them can barely string a sentence together but this one is quite eloquent.'

'Umm . . . yes, he's been in our family for years. My father taught him to speak.' Sebastian shot Max a withering look. 'Unfortunately.' He hurried across to the caravan and rummaged amongst the piles of junk that were heaped in the back. 'I don't pay him much attention. He likes to prattle on, you know, but he's harmless enough.'

The manling didn't seem convinced by this and Max looked positively disgusted.

'Oh, please, do continue to talk about me as though I'm not here,' he said. He glared at Sebastian. 'And don't say I didn't warn you.' He lowered his huge head onto his front legs and looked away, as though absolving himself of any responsibility.

'Aha!' Sebastian had finally found what he was looking for – an iron frame that slotted together to make a sturdy revolving spit that would roast the meat evenly over the flames. He hauled it out of the caravan, brought it across to the fire and, crouching down, started assembling it. 'This should do the job,' he said. He was so excited at the thought of eating hot meat that his hands were shaking.

'Excellent,' said Cornelius. He set his breastplate aside and flexed his arms and shoulders with a sigh of relief. 'Ah, that's better. I've been walking since first light. Well, let's get down to business.' He pulled a fearsome-looking knife from his belt and Sebastian froze in terror.

'What did I tell you?' hissed Max. 'I said he wasn't to be trusted!'

Cornelius gave the buffalope another strange look, then turned to the carcass of the javralat. 'I'll prepare this fellow for cooking, shall I?' he said.

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief. As he watched, Cornelius expertly skinned and gutted the javralat with a few flicks of the finely honed blade. He flung the entrails into the bushes, wiped the knife on his trousers, then handed the skinned carcass to Sebastian.

'These are the only things worth eating that I've found on these blasted flat lands,' he said. 'They're damned hard to catch, though. You have to sit stock-still by the entrance to one of their burrows, and when they finally stick their heads out . . .' He made a brief chopping gesture with the flat of one hand.

Max winced. 'What a world,' he said. 'One minute you're running happily across the plains, the next you're on some?body's dinner plate.'

'This is a lawless place,' growled Cornelius. 'It's kill or be killed out here – and there are plenty of creatures stalking the night that would think nothing of putting
us
on the menu.'

'Yes, we were just discussing lupers when you arrived,' said Sebastian.

'I'm not talking about
them,
although they can be bad enough.' He sat himself cross-legged beside the fire and held out his hands to warm them. 'No, I speak of the grundersnat.'

'The . . . what?'

'The grundersnat. Oh, a fearsome beast by all accounts. A huge leathery-winged creature with row upon row of razor-sharp teeth and vicious claws that can tear their way through just about anything.'

Max looked terrified. 'You . . . haven't
seen
one, have you?'

'No, but I've heard it in the night. A hellish bellowing sound that could turn the blood in your veins to ice. They say if the grundersnat sets eyes on you, it will not give up until it has you in its belly'

Max's eyes got very big and round. 'Oh, that's marvellous!' he said. 'And to think we were nice and safe back there in our old homestead. But no, the young master said we were to go to Keladon and that was that. Nobody mentioned lupers and cannibals and flesh-eating monsters with razor-sharp teeth!'

Sebastian occupied himself with getting the javralat onto the spit. Within a few moments he had the creature impaled and was turning it around over the crackling flames. Almost instantly, an appetizing aroma began to fill the air. 'Smells good,' he observed brightly.

'It certainly does,' agreed Max. 'And as a lifelong vegetarian, I can hardly believe I'm saying that! But . . . supposing the grundersnat smells it and comes looking for some supper?'