Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (40 page)

'So,' he said. 'Alone at last. The jolly jester and I.' He raised his sword and slashed it around in the air, making a series of imaginary feints and jabs. 'Got any good jokes for me, have you?'

Sebastian shook his head. 'Not really the time or place,' he said.

'And how are you with that sword? Any good?'

Sebastian shrugged. 'I'm not so bad,' he said.

'Glad to hear it,' said King Septimus mockingly. 'I, on the other hand, am a champion. Three times winner of the Keladonian fencing tournament. I don't wish to blow my own trumpet, but I am considered unbeatable. And it's going to give me such joy to end your interfering little life.' He stepped forward, sword raised. 'Sometimes, it's the simple things that give the most pleasure, don't you think?'

Sebastian didn't have time to reply. The king came at him with brutal force, swinging the heavy blade straight at his head. He only just got his own sword up in time, and the impact of metal against metal struck sparks and sent shock waves along the length of his arm. King Septimus grunted, pulled the blade away and swung low at Sebastian's legs. He jumped, the razor-sharp blade cleaving the air inches below his feet; and in the same instant he threw out his left fist and punched the king full in the face.

King Septimus reeled back with an oath and lifted a hand to wipe at a smudge of blood on his lips. 'You cheated!' he said. 'You'll pay for that.'

'You were right,' Sebastian told him. 'It is the little things that give pleasure.'

King Septimus sneered but his face was dark with fury. 'Funny man,' he said. 'We'll see if you're still laughing in a few moments.'

He came at Sebastian again, driving the blade with such force that when Sebastian parried the blow, he stumbled backwards, tripped and went sprawling over a low wooden table. He hit the floor on the far side of it, aware that the king was still coming at him, lashing out with the sword. Desperately Sebastian grabbed a leg of the table and pulled it towards him, trying to use it as a shield. The king's blade hacked a chunk out of it inches from his head. Sebastian got his feet in behind the table and kicked hard, launching it off the ground towards his opponent.

Septimus stepped nimbly aside but it gave Sebastian time to get back to his feet. Now the two men circled each other, looking for an opening.

'You've been lucky so far,' observed Septimus calmly. 'But you can't evade me for ever. After all, I'm a king and you are nothing but a breed.'

'I know what I'd rather be,' Sebastian assured him. 'And by the way, you're no longer a king. Your reign ended the minute the people of Keladon turned against you. Whether you kill me or not, you'll still be finished here.'

'It will be a hollow victory for you,' King Septimus assured him. 'Trying to perform your pathetic act with no head.'

He had artfully backed Sebastian into a corner against a stout wooden door. Sebastian was about to edge away from it when Septimus leaped at him with a vicious flurry of blows, each more powerful than the last. Sebastian just managed to block them; but the final one knocked him back?wards again and the door behind him opened unexpectedly. He found himself in a narrow corridor with a spiral of stone steps leading upwards behind him. He just had time to register that this must be the famous tower of King Septimus; and then his adversary was upon him once again and he was forced to retreat, stumbling backwards up the staircase, blocking the endless succession of blows that were thrown at him.

In the subdued light, Septimus's eyes seemed to glow with some deranged fire. He was laughing as he attacked, driving Sebastian upward, higher and higher. Sebastian's arms ached and the sweat flowed from every pore of his body, but he could find nowhere on the smooth stone steps to make a stand; and then, a particularly vicious blow smashed the sword clean out of his hand. It went skittering away out of reach.

Septimus grinned, his eyes malevolent. 'Oh dear,' he said. 'Not looking too good, is it? Better start begging for mercy, Elf-man!' He came forward and Sebastian did the only thing he could do: he ran.

'Yes, run!' gloated Septimus, climbing the steps at his leisure. 'But there's nowhere to hide, Jester. Nowhere at all.'

A few turns round the spiral and Sebastian came to a painted wooden shield hanging on the wall. He reached up and tried to pull it down but it was securely mounted and he was horribly aware of Septimus getting closer. He made an almost super-human effort and the shield came down, pulling chunks of stone with it. He slid the shield onto his left arm and crouched low, pressing himself against the inside wall. As Septimus came round the spiral to face him, he leaped up and smashed Septimus in the chest with the shield, knocking him back several steps, but he didn't fall. He gathered himself and came right back at Sebastian, swinging the sword so hard that it hacked shards of wood from the shield. Sebastian reeled under the impact and once again began to reverse up the staircase. Passing by an arrow slit, he saw that the ground was already a long distance below them.

'Come on, Jester, this is making me weary,' complained Septimus. 'Give me a clear shot at that head of yours and we can end all this.'

'How about . . . you give me . . . the first shot?' gasped Sebastian. He was almost at the point of exhaustion now, the sweat raining from his face, and he didn't think he could go on much longer.

'No,' snarled Septimus. 'I asked
first!'

He lifted his arm and struck downwards with such force that the shield split in two and Sebastian felt the razor-sharp blade slice deep into his shoulder. Galvanized by pain, he lashed a fist at his opponent's face, but Septimus ducked under it and retaliated with a punch of his own, which hit Sebastian full on the nose. He fell backwards and his shoulders crashed against wood. Something gave way behind him and he fell through another door and emerged into a sudden blaze of sunlight. A flight of birds, disturbed by his arrival, flapped noisily upwards into the clear blue sky. He lay there for a moment, staring up at them as they wheeled away, his head spinning. He realized that he had reached the very top of the tower. Septimus had been right. There was nowhere to hide.

With a supreme effort, Sebastian got back to his feet and stumbled the short distance to the parapet. He gazed over and saw a great crowd of people swarming far below. From this vantage point they looked like an army of insects. A great roar came drifting up as they caught sight of him, and he saw a tiny figure in a red dress come running out of the palace doors, her face turned upwards to look at him. He was going to shout out her name but a hand grabbed his injured shoulder, spinning him round and making him cry out with the pain of it.

Septimus punched him hard in the face. He almost went over the parapet, but the king grabbed him by the hair, twisted him back round and held the blade of the sword to his throat. He could feel the razor edge grazing flesh.

'Not so fast, Elf-man!' growled Septimus into his ear. 'Look down there. There she is, your beloved princess. I want her to see what happens to you. I want her to be the last thing you see as you die. Now . . . any final words?'

Sebastian's mind was reeling; but through the red mist that gathered at the edges of his consciousness, one last desperate idea came to him and he knew he had to try it.

'Just one thing . . .' he croaked. 'Something I've always wanted to know . . .'

'Yes?' whispered Septimus.

'Is it . . . is it a wig?'

Septimus jerked back, as though somebody had stabbed him. 'What are you talking about?' he hissed.

'Your hair . . . it looks too perfect to be real.'

'Of course it's real!' bellowed Septimus. 'Everyone knows it's real!'

'All right . . . if you say so.' And with that, Sebastian flung up a hand, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled hard. There was a terrible moment when the hair held fast, as though stuck securely in place – but then there was a ripping noise and it came off in one piece, revealing a king who was as bald as a boiled egg. From down below, sounds of laughter drifted up.

'Give that back!' roared Septimus, throwing his sword arm over his head and reaching for the wig with his free hand. 'Give it back, I say!'

Sebastian retreated along the parapet, holding the wig out like a lure. 'You want this?' he asked. 'You want it?' He leaned dangerously out over the parapet, holding it at arm's length. 'We'll send it down to the people, shall we?' he said. 'Then they'll all see!'

'No! No, give it to me!' Septimus was leaning over too, trying to reach for the wig, his fingers inches away from it. Then . . .

'Oops!' said Sebastian; and he let it fall.

'Nooooo!'
Septimus made a last desperate grab for it, and in that same instant Sebastian ducked down, grabbed the king's legs and heaved him up and over the edge. Septimus teetered for a moment on the parapet, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to find a hold.

He gave one dismal squeal of terror. Then he slid forward and fell into empty air.

Sebastian watched as the king went twisting and turning downwards, his legs pumping madly as though he were trying to run. Below him the crowds of people scattered in all directions, not wanting to be flattened.

The wig, caught by the wind, didn't fall as quickly as the former king. He seemed to catch up with it moments before he hit the ground.

Sebastian snapped his gaze away at the last moment; and when he could bring himself to look again, the crowd had swarmed around the smashed body and it was lost from sight.

Wearily Sebastian staggered back through the open doorway and started down the staircase, slipping and sliding on the smooth steps, having to hold himself up with his un?injured arm. It seemed to take an age to get down to the

king's chambers. He could hear the sound of fists pounding on the door, but weak as he was from loss of blood, he had to struggle with the heavy bolt before he could get it open.

The door swung back revealing a crowd of shouting people on the landing. He had a glimpse of a beautiful face in among the others and he said her name and reached for her, but that was when unconsciousness claimed him. He fell forward into her arms and didn't even feel the many hands that lifted him gently and carried him back down the stairs to safety.