'Four days and four nights,' Cornelius told him. 'We really thought you wouldn't make it through the first night. The arrowhead was buried deep in your chest and it was hard to dig it out. Keera insisted on bringing Danthus, the tribe's medicine man, to tend to the wound . . .'
'The man with the white beard?' Sebastian touched the wound on his chest gingerly. 'I remember. I woke for a moment when he was . . . pulling the arrowhead out.'
Cornelius shook his head. 'I must say I had my doubts about his approach to medicine. He made up a poultice from wildflowers and mud and packed that into the wound. But' – he peered at Sebastian's chest – 'I have to say, it does look like it's improving.'
'Tell me about Keera,' said Sebastian.
Cornelius chuckled. 'Why do you want to know about her?' he asked.
'I told you. She saved my life.'
'Well, she's a pretty important person in the village,' Cornelius said. 'Her father, Maccan, is the big chief here. He wasn't so keen on having us in the village at first, but Keera talked him round.'
'She was touching my face,' murmured Sebastian. He could feel sleep tugging at him again, his eyelids growing heavy, and though he struggled to fight it off, he was rapidly losing the battle. 'She was . . . staring at me . . .'
'That's not so surprising,' Cornelius told him. 'You see, she claims to know who you are.'
'Hmm?' Even so close to sleep, Sebastian registered how strange this remark was. 'But . . . how could she? I've never been here before . . . and she . . . presumably, has never . . .'
Cornelius patted him on the shoulder. 'Stop fighting it,' he advised. 'We'll talk again later, when you've rested a bit more.'
'Rest . . . yes . . .' Even as he was sinking into sleep, a thought occurred to Sebastian. 'Max!' he whispered. 'I haven't asked about Max. Is he all right?' 'Max is . . . worried.'
'A-about me?'
'Well, yes, of course . . . but it's not just that. You see, amongst the Jilith, buffalope meat is considered a real delicacy. He is convinced that everywhere he goes, the people of the tribe are sharpening their knives and salivating.'
If he had possessed more strength, Sebastian would have laughed at this. But he could hold out no longer. His fingers lost their precarious grip on consciousness and he fell, slowly, tumbling over and over into a deep dark void that seemed to have no end . . .
He woke again and felt much stronger this time. He was aware of a raging hunger within him; and as if in answer to that, a figure stepped in through the open doorway of the hut carrying what could only be a bowl of food. The woman came to kneel beside the bed and he saw that it was the one called Keera. She looked at him for a moment with those dark brown eyes and smiled.
'You are hungry?' she asked him.
He nodded.
'This will make you stronger,' she assured him. She dipped a rough wooden spoon into the bowl and lifted it to his lips. It was some kind of thick, meaty soup. He took a gulp of it and was aware of it trickling down into his insides, warming him. 'You must take it slowly,' Keera told him. 'You have only had milk and water for the last few days.' But she raised the spoon again and he swallowed the contents gratefully. Then a terrible thought occurred to him.
'What's in this?' he asked. 'It's not . . . buffalope, is it?'
She shook her head. 'Don't worry, it's rusa. The little warrior has warned everyone in the village that the buffalope is special and anybody who harms him will answer to his sword. We saw the Golmiran fight – nobody here is in a hurry to cross swords with him.'
Sebastian smiled. 'He's only little but he fights like ten men,' he said. 'Mind you, you're no mean fighter yourself. I saw you take on those two creatures . . . what is it you call them? Golgath?'
'Gograth. Our mortal enemies.' She stared thoughtfully into the bowl of soup. 'They grow in numbers all the time,' she said. 'And day by day they venture closer and closer to the village.' She seemed to make an effort to put her thoughts aside and gave him another spoonful of soup.
In his haste to swallow the contents, Sebastian made a loud slurping noise. 'Sorry,' he said, licking his lips.
'That's all right. Amongst the Jilith, it's considered good manners to slurp your food.'
'Really?' He managed a smile. 'Then my buffalope, Max, must be considered the best-mannered creature of all.'
Keera laughed, displaying even, white teeth. 'I have never heard a beast that can talk like him! The children of the village are afraid to go near him because he is so magical.'
'There are many words I'd use to describe Max,' said Sebastian. 'Magical isn't one of them.' He opened his mouth and accepted another spoonful of soup. 'How do your people come to be living in the middle of the jungle?' he asked.
She shrugged. 'It is where we have always lived. Not in this same village – we move around from time to time.'
'What makes you move?'
'There can be many reasons. Perhaps the hunting becomes bad and we have to move in search of fresh game . . . perhaps the water supply dries up . . . or perhaps the Gograth grow too strong and threaten to wipe us out. The elders of the tribe are saying that we should move soon, before they mass together and finish us for good.'
'Why would they do that? I mean . . . what harm are you to them?'
Keera gave him a last spoonful of soup and then set the bowl aside. 'It's not about harm. It's about a grudge that goes back to the beginning of time. There's a story about how in the ancient days there were two tribes in the jungle and the gods decided to grant one tribe the gift of intelligence and beauty and to curse the other to be beasts for all eternity.'
Sebastian smiled. 'It's easy to see which tribe was blessed with good looks,' he said; and Keera lowered her eyes, made suddenly self-conscious by the remark.
'I do not know if this is a true story,' she told him, 'but that is supposed to account for the Gograth's hatred of us. They are jealous of the gift we were given. And ever since, it has been their intention to destroy us.'
'And could they do that?'
Keera sighed. 'A few moons ago, I would have said no. The Gograth were spread out in little groups all over the jungle.
They were bad enough but they had no real strength. Then General Darvon came along.'
Sebastian frowned. 'Who's he?'
'A Gograth with high ambitions and just a little more brains than the rest of them. He's been going around uniting all the little bands into one big army. He's made it clear that he believes there's room for only one tribe in the jungle. He claims that he can talk to the ancient gods and they have commanded him to destroy the Jilith.'
'And people believe that?'
'You've seen the Gograth,' Keera said. 'Did they strike you as creatures with a lot of intelligence? They believe what they're told. I suppose we could move on, but they'd no doubt follow us. You know, I was pondering the matter when we chanced upon you and your companions – and then I knew I had an answer. You have come to our aid, as promised.'
Sebastian gazed at her, puzzled. 'What do you mean?' he asked her. Then he remembered something that Cornelius had told him. 'I was told that you claim to know me . . .'
Keera smiled and nodded. She reached into a little animalhide pouch that hung from her belt and drew out what looked like a piece of parchment. She unrolled it carefully, handling it as though it were some precious artefact. 'This scroll has been passed down through the generations,' she said. 'It is given to each chief of the Jilith when he takes up his position. It is said to be part of an ancient prophecy and speaks of a mysterious half-man who will come to the aid of the Jilith in their darkest hour. Look . . .'
She turned the scroll round and held it out so that he could see it. The scroll showed a painting of a lean, wiry young man, dressed in long boots and what looked like a tricorn hat. Sebastian could see that the character had pointed elvish ears – he couldn't deny that there was a strong resemblance to him. In the picture, the figure was wielding a sword and was about to plunge it into the breast of a hairy beast-like
creature that was evidently a Gograth.
Sebastian opened his mouth to say something but couldn't seem to find any words. In the end he just said, 'Oh.'
'Don't you see?' said Keera excitedly. 'Your arrival was foretold. You are the saviour who was sent to free my people from the terror of the Gograth!'
CHAPTER 4
ELF LORD
In the silence that followed Keera's remark, Sebastian considered his options. He could hardly ridicule what she'd just said. After all, she'd saved his life. But at the same time, the thought of taking on the might of the Gograth army was not a particularly appealing one. He'd met up with just a small band of them and had very nearly paid the ultimate price. Still, he had to say something. She was looking at him expectantly, waiting for his words of wisdom.
'Umm . . . well, Keera, that's . . . that's . . . remarkable.
I admit, it does look a bit like me, but—'
'A bit? Look at the clothes. Look at the ears!'
'But, Keera,' he said, 'do you not think that all this – strange as it may seem – could simply be some kind of coincidence?'
Keera smiled and brushed back her long hair with her fingers. 'Forgive me, but I know better than that,' she said. 'I mean, think about it. A strange half-man comes into the jungle from the outside world. He brings with him a tiny but mighty warrior and a magical talking buffalope. And what's the first thing he does when he arrives? He takes on the archenemy of the Jilith. You are the Chosen One, the Elf Lord that we have been promised for so long.'
'They attacked me! And I nearly got killed! That doesn't seem very heroic, does it?' The act of raising his voice sent a jolt of pain through Sebastian's chest and he grimaced.
'But it is spoken of in the ancient stories,' said Keera. 'The half-man will suffer terrible tribulations, but he will weather the violence and will rise up stronger than before. Then he will smite our enemies with such force that they will be vanquished for ever!'
'I . . . I'm not awfully big on smiting,' protested Sebastian.
'Of course you are!' said a voice from the doorway; and looking up, Sebastian saw Cornelius leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a big grin on his baby face. 'Ignore him, Keera, he's just being modest. Why, if I were to tell you of all his victories, I'd be here till tomorrow evening.'
Sebastian stared at the little warrior in exasperation. 'Tell her!' he protested. 'Tell her I'm not a hero!'
'I will do no such thing,' retorted Cornelius. 'This is just like you, Sebastian, trying to downplay your abilities. But your modesty is misplaced. You should celebrate your magnificent victories, just as ordinary men do.' He smiled at Keera. 'The Chosen One is still weak and a little confused. If the two of us could talk alone for a few moments . . .'
'Of course.' Keera rolled up the parchment and replaced it carefully in her pouch. Then, retrieving the bowl, she got up, bowing respectfully first to Sebastian and then to Cornelius as she went past.
The little warrior waited until she was out of hearing, then strolled into the hut, beaming. 'I'm rather enjoying being the friend of the Chosen One,' he said. 'I've never been so indulged. I simply snap my fingers and I get whatever I want!'
'Cornelius!' Sebastian glared at his friend. 'What's all this "Chosen One" nonsense? And why are you allowing Keera to believe such a ridiculous notion?'
'For very good reasons,' Cornelius assured him. 'While you've been sleeping the days away, I've been using my time to good purpose . . . But more of that later. For now, I have a surprise for you.' He glanced back towards the open doorway. 'Come on, shaggy. He's clearly well enough to entertain visitors.'
A great mournful head ducked in through the doorway and there stood Max, regarding Sebastian with evident relief. 'My prayers are answered!' he exclaimed. 'The young master is healed!'
'I wouldn't go quite that far,' Sebastian told him. 'But I'm certainly on the mend – and though I never thought I'd say it, it's good to see your face, Max.' He thought for a moment. 'Who exactly did you pray to?'
'Why, the great buffalope-god Colin, of course.' Max looked quite indignant at the question. 'Who else?'
'But I didn't think you believed in him,' persisted Sebastian.
'I don't really. But in a situation this grave, I wasn't taking any chances.'
Sebastian laughed at this and instantly regretted it as another stab of pain went through him. Cornelius came and sat down cross-legged beside the straw bed. Max ambled closer too.
'Oh, young master,' he said. 'I can't tell you how happy I am. Even in this terrible place, where everybody seems to want a portion of me!'
Cornelius laughed heartily. 'It's lucky for you you're the magical assistant of the Chosen One,' he said. 'Otherwise you'd be nothing but a handful of spare ribs. I swear there's one fellow in the tribe who can't look at you without drooling!'
'There you go again!' hissed Sebastian. 'You must put Keera straight about this. It's not fair to let her go on thinking . . . well, that there's something special about me.'
'But who's to say there isn't?' argued Cornelius. 'You've seen the scroll. And I've spent some time listening to the old stories. There are some startling similarities: for instance, the Chosen One – that's what the Jilith call this Elf Lord – he's supposed to come from a desert region, just like your homeland Jerabim. He's supposed to have brought down kings and witches, just as you have. And—'
'Yes, but these are just coincidences! There's nothing special about me.'
'I can vouch for that,' said Max. 'I've seen his jester's routine.'
'You are special. We all are, and you'd better get that into your thick skull,' said Cornelius.
'But can't you see? It's wrong to allow Keera to deceive herself after she saved our lives and everything. If you won't say something to her, then I will.'
Cornelius shook his head. He reached into his singlet and took out his tobacco pipe and pouch. 'You'll do nothing of the kind,' he said calmly. 'For one thing, tell her that and poor old Max here will be on a roasting spit before he has time to blink.'
'Do you really think so?' asked Max warily. 'I'm nervous enough as it is without that kind of talk!'
'And secondly,' continued Cornelius, 'if we can convince the Jilith that you are who they think you are, they'll give us the location of the lost city of Mendip.'
'What are you talking about?' asked Sebastian. 'Nobody knows if there is a lost city . . . do they?'
'Well, hear me out a moment and see what you think.'
Sebastian was beginning to tire but he listened to Cornelius's story and marvelled at his friend's cleverness. It was clear that despite his concerns for Sebastian's welfare, the little warrior's mind had remained active enough to spot golden opportunities. He had noticed that Keera seemed to be in awe of Sebastian from the very start, treating him with great care and reverence, as though attending to the needs of a king. He had taken his first opportunity to ask her about it.
Soon enough she had told him the story and shown him the ancient parchment. At that point, Cornelius could easily have dispelled the notion, but he had decided that it would be in their interests to allow it to develop. It was Keera who had convinced her father that the strangers in the camp were not ordinary men; and that their appearance here at the village had great significance for the future.
'I've spoken with Keera's father, the chief,' said Cornelius; 'a powerful warrior called Maccan. I asked him if he had ever heard of an ancient lost city in the jungle. He replied that of course he had – it had been a familiar story since his childhood. Not only that, but an old man of the tribe called Joseph claimed to have visited it when he was a little boy.'
Sebastian Darke: Prince of Explorers Page 3