he saw that one rider had spotted him and was racing to the attack. Sebastian swallowed hard and tightened his two-handed grip on his father's sword, telling himself that if he must die here, then he should do it well and not show fear, even though he was quaking inside.
The Brigand came galloping towards him, his ugly face painted with stripes of what looked suspiciously like blood. He was laughing and swinging a huge sword above his head. The equine's hooves seemed to shake the very ground that Sebastian was standing on. He desperately tried to remember the advice his father had given him about situations like this:
Let your opponent make the first move but anticipate it. Once you have evaded his blow, make your move and don't hesitate for a second!
The Brigand came alongside him and leaned over in the saddle to take a swipe. As he lashed out, Sebastian swayed sideways and the tip of the sword hissed a deadly arc a few inches from his right ear; then he swung back and slashed with his own blade, feeling it bite clean through the rider's chain-mail vest at his waist. The equine raced on, but as Sebastian turned to look, the rider tipped sideways in his saddle and went crashing heavily into the dirt. He lay there, writhing in agony, blood seeping through his vest.
Sebastian felt a sudden rush of exhilaration go through him. He'd done it! He'd faced a Brigand in mortal combat and emerged victorious! He opened his mouth to give a shout of triumph, but in that instant something heavy slammed into his back, driving the breath out of his lungs. He went sprawling to the ground, in total confusion, rolled over several times and came to rest lying on his back, his sword no longer in his hand. He looked up and saw a huge, barrel-chested Brigand approaching him, giving him a gap-toothed grin. He was brandishing the heavy club with which he had just struck Sebastian, and it was clear from the way he swaggered closer that he had every intention of using it again.
Sebastian looked desperately around for his sword and saw it lying a short distance away. If he could just clear his thoughts enough to make a dive for it – but the Brigand was shaking his ugly, bearded head.
'Forget it, Elf-man. It's not going to happen,' he said. He came closer, the club raised to strike.
Sebastian lay there, only vaguely aware of a strange thundering that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. He steeled himself for the killing blow and offered up a quick prayer that his father would be there to meet him in the next world. But the blow never came.
Instead, a huge horned head lurched into view, striking the Brigand full in his chest and sending him tumbling across the ground like a broken doll.
'Max!' Sebastian looked up delightedly, but such was the impetus of the caravan that the buffalope could not stop, and he went racing crazily past, the wheels missing Sebastian by inches. The stunned Brigand was just struggling back to his feet when Max and the caravan trampled him flat and thundered on into the thick of the battle, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Sebastian shook his head and got back to his feet. He retrieved his sword and ran after the caravan into the dust cloud.
Suddenly he was immersed in a strange half-lit chaos of fighting, struggling men. A Brigand with a huge horned helmet came lurching at him out of the dust and Sebastian reacted instinctively, slashing at the man's helmet with his sword. He felt the impact of the blow all along the length of his arm and the man dropped backwards out of sight. Sebastian stood there, staring at his sword in amazement.
'Ha, ha, that's the spirit, lad!' roared a voice down by his hip, and he saw Cornelius go running past. He was spattered with blood and dirt, but looked as though he was having the time of his life. 'I think I've dealt with all their archers. Now, come with me. Must be something pretty valuable in that carriage!'
Sebastian followed the little warrior without question and found himself a short distance away from the opulent carriage. The last of the guards had just fallen to the swords of the Brigands and now one of them, a huge, bare-chested, shaven-headed man with a goatee beard, was triumphantly reaching out to pull aside the satin curtains that covered the doorway. As he did so, a large clay pot came flying out of the gloom and hit him full in the face, knocking him backwards to the floor. He lay there stunned for a moment, then grunted in surprise as first Cornelius and then Sebastian used his chest as a convenient springboard to launch themselves up onto the wooden steps of the carriage. They turned at bay, their swords raised to defend the curtained doorway, and found themselves confronted by a half-circle of scowling, armed-to-the-teeth warriors.
There was a long and terrible silence as the Brigands gathered themselves for the onslaught.
This is it, thought Sebastian. We can't fight them all. We're done for.
CHAPTER 7
SOME STUPID GIRL
The silence continued for what seemed an age. Cornelius looked slowly around at the half-circle of savages, letting them see the determination in his eyes. Then he spoke in a commanding tone.
'Brigands, hear my words! I, Captain Cornelius Drummel, have killed many of your number today, and be sure that I will kill every one of you who tries to put a foot upon this step.'
'Archers!' shouted one of the Brigands. 'Come forward and shoot these two idiots!'
There was another silence while everyone waited for an archer to appear, but it quickly became apparent that one wasn't going to show up.
'I took the precaution of killing all your archers,' Cornelius told them. T find them such a nuisance in a situation like this. And before you waste time looking for a bow, let me assure you that I always cut through the strings. I don't believe in unfair advantages.'
There were worried murmurs at this news. The Brigands were looking this way and that, assuring themselves that it was true. They really didn't have a single archer left.
'My advice to you gentlemen,' said Cornelius, 'would be to take what booty you can salvage from the rest of these wagons and leave, while your heads still sit firmly upon your shoulders.'
Now there was a murmur of conversation amongst the Brigands. Then one of them, a squat, red-bearded man with plaited hair and crudely executed body tattoos, shouted back.
'Those are big words from such a little, little man!'
There was some laughter at this remark but it faded quickly when Cornelius made his reply.
'Little I may be, but by Shadlog's bones, I'm man enough to cut off your ugly head without raising a sweat.'
'Cut it off? You couldn't even reach it!'
More laughter from the mob, but Cornelius simply smiled. 'Don't take my word for it!' he shouted. 'Please, step up here and find out for yourself.'
There were shouts of encouragement from Red Beard's companions and he looked around at them for moral support, before shrugging his powerful shoulders, hefting his huge double-handed sword and stepping forward to meet Cornelius.
'Take a step back, Sebastian,' said Cornelius calmly; and Sebastian did as he was told.
Watching the scene, Sebastian would have sworn that Cornelius barely moved. The manling gave an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, the silver blade blurred into motion and the big man grunted in surprise, clutching at his stomach. He dropped to his knees, bringing his head into range of Cornelius's sword. Cornelius whirled round, the blade flashed a second time and the man's body crumpled slowly to the ground, while his head bounced down the steps and rolled back towards his comrades, a surprised expression on its face. The Brigands all stood there staring down at it in stunned amazement.
'Does anybody else fancy their chances?' roared Cornelius. But evidently nobody did. Muttering and cursing, the Brigands turned away and began to trudge towards the other wagons.
'Cowards!' snapped Cornelius, spitting in their general direction. 'Come on, supposing I tie one hand behind my back, how about that?'
There were still no takers.
'Never did come across a Brigand who had much aptitude for hand-to-hand combat,' growled Cornelius. 'A pity – I was just getting warmed up.' He glanced at Sebastian and winked. 'You acquitted yourself well, lad. We may
make a soldier of you yet. Now, I'll stay here just in case any of those barbarians decide to come back for another try. You nip inside and see what it was that those guards sacrificed their lives to defend.'
Sebastian nodded.
He turned, pulled back the curtains and stepped into the gloomy interior, remembering as he did so that the last person who had tried to enter had been treated rather harshly. In the same instant, something hard crashed down on his head with terrible force, knocking him to the floor. He crouched for a moment on his hands and knees, a myriad multi-coloured lights dancing around inside his skull, glad that he'd still been wearing his jester's hat, which had absorbed some of the impact. He was vaguely aware that somebody was approaching, doubtless intent on making another attack. Without hesitation he launched himself head?long at the dimly perceived figure, knocking it backwards into the depths of the carriage. His arms closed around some?body's shoulders, there was a sudden clatter as a heavy object struck the floor, and then the figure was tipping back?wards onto what felt like a feather bed and struggling to escape his grasp.
He lifted a fist to strike but it suddenly occurred to him that this adversary was a good deal more fragrant than the Brigands he had encountered outside. His upraised hand brushed against a velvet drape, so he grabbed at it and tore it down, allowing a sudden flush of light to enter the interior.
He found he was crouched on top of a girl – a beautiful one at that. She lay there glaring up at him, her green eyes narrowed to slits of anger, her full red mouth arranged into a disapproving scowl.
'Take your hands off me, imbecile!' she shrieked. 'How dare you touch me?'
Sebastian frowned, but released his hold and moved back off what he could now see was a silken couch.
'Sorry,' he said. 'I thought—'
'I don't care what you thought!'
'Are you all right in there, lad?' he heard Cornelius shout.
'Uh . . . yes, I'm fine. It's just some stupid girl who tried to brain me with a' – he looked around a moment and found the culprit lying on the ground – 'a chamber pot.' Thankfully, it appeared that the rather fancy porcelain pot had been empty when she had used it.
'Some stupid girl!' she cried, looking absolutely horrified. 'How dare you? When my uncle hears of this outrage, he'll have you and those other Brigands hunted down like—'
'Hey, whoa, just a minute!' Sebastian glared at her. 'I'm no Brigand! In case you weren't listening, my friend Cornelius and I just saved you from that rabble. We . . . we rescued you.' His own words surprised him. He had not until this moment realized that this is what they had actually done.
'Really?' She looked far from impressed. 'And where are my guards?'
Sebastian frowned. 'All dead, I'm afraid.'
'Oh. I see.' The girl looked aside for a moment as though she could hardly believe her own ears. 'What? Every last one of them?'
'I believe so. We haven't really had time to look properly. We were just trying to work out what it was the soldiers were guarding so tenaciously. Have you got treasure in here?'
The girl stared at him. 'They were guarding me, you cretin. Have you any idea who I am?'
'Umm – somebody with a pretty high opinion of herself, judging by the fuss you're making.'
The girl stood up, her hands on her hips. She glowered at him. 'I am Princess Kerin of Keladon.'
'Keladon! Oh, that's a coincidence, that's where we . . .' Sebastian's voice trailed off as he registered fully what she'd said. 'I'm sorry, did you say, er . . . Princess?'
'Yes, you oaf. Princess Kerin. King Septimus is my uncle.'
It took a while, but Princess Kerin eventually calmed down enough to accompany Sebastian outside, where they found Cornelius still guarding the doorway. It was clear from the sheepish expression on his baby face that he had heard every word. He immediately turned to face her.
'I am your humble servant, your highness,' he said and bowed his head in reverence.
'There's no need for that,' she told him irritably. 'You can stand up.'
'I am standing up,' said Cornelius humbly.
'Oh yes, so you are! Gosh, you're really rather small, aren't you?'
'Small of stature, but with the heart of a giant, Princess. I am from Golmira, the kingdom of the—'
'Whatever.' Princess Kerin clapped her immaculately manicured hands together. 'So – what's happening out here, then?'
'The Brigands are looting the supply wagons, your highness. I thought it best to allow them that in exchange for sparing this carriage. And just here, I'm afraid, is where your noble Royal Guard made their final stand.'
He indicated the litter of dead men sprawled around the entrance to the carriage. Princess Kerin looked down at them and her eyes widened in shock. She looked for all the world like somebody who had just awakened from a terrible nightmare.
'Dead?' she whispered, as though unfamiliar with the word. 'How could they be dead? They . . . they . . .'
'They gave their lives to protect you,' said Sebastian.
She nodded. 'They were brave men. I would ask you to collect up the insignia of each of them. When I get back to Keladon, I shall write to each of their families and—
Her voice choked up and for an instant tears filled her eyes; but she seemed to make a conscious effort to pull herself together. She lifted her gaze from the dead men to a couple of hairy villains who were rifling through a large trunk that they'd pulled from a nearby caravan. One of them had found a frilly gown and was holding it up against his hairy chest, as though considering trying it on. She seemed to steel herself and a hard expression came into her eyes. She seemed, once again, cool and imperious.
'If you hadn't come along when you did, I'd probably be a captive by now,' she murmured. 'Nasty, filthy brutes! Probably haven't bathed for weeks, and I bet they never clean their teeth.' She turned back to look at Sebastian and Cornelius and the tears were quite gone. Sebastian was astonished by this sudden transformation. 'It seems I'm in your debt,' she said calmly. She glared at Sebastian. 'So I'll overlook the fact that you jumped on me.'
'It was self-defence,' retorted Sebastian. 'You hit me with a—'
'Your highness, may I ask how you came to be out here in this desolate place?' interrupted Cornelius, trying to head off a potential row.
'Oh, that was my uncle's idea. He sent me off as part of a deputation to meet Queen Helena of Bodengen, which borders our lands. She has this supposedly handsome son, Rolf, who she's anxious to get married off. Uncle Septimus seemed to think it would be useful if I got to know him. Has his mind on some kind of alliance, I think.' The princess rolled her eyes as though it was all too much effort to even talk about. 'Anyway, I'd seen a painting of Rolf and he did look quite hunky, so I agreed to go.'
'Well, naturally,' said Sebastian, but she didn't seem to notice his sarcasm.
'When I got there, I discovered that the court painter had made Rolf look considerably more attractive than he actually was. He'd neglected to record the missing teeth and the sloping forehead. So I insisted that we come straight back, and that's when those awful Brigands ambushed us.' She sighed. 'I suppose I should have listened to the captain.'
'The captain?' echoed Cornelius.
'Of the Royal Guard. A lot of his men had fallen ill and were unable to accompany us. He said we should wait a few days, until they were back up to strength – but I insisted on leaving straight away. I'd promised Uncle Septimus that I'd be back for my birthday'
'Your birthday?' Sebastian raised his eyebrows.
'Yes. My seventeenth. It's tomorrow.'
Sebastian could scarcely believe his ears. 'So, let me get this straight. All these men died . . . because you wanted to get back for your birthday?'
Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools Page 5