Sebastian Darke: Prince of Explorers Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  By the Same Author

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  PART ONE THE VILLAGE CHAPTER 1 LOST

  CHAPTER 2 RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE

  CHAPTER 3 TIME HEALS

  CHAPTER 4 ELF LORD

  CHAPTER 5 COME TO THE FEAST

  CHAPTER 6 MACCAN'S WORD

  CHAPTER 7 A CUNNING PLAN

  CHAPTER 8 JOSEPH'S STORY

  CHAPTER 9 DAY OF RECKONING

  CHAPTER 10 BATTLE ROYAL

  PART TWO THE QUEST CHAPTER 11 THE LEAVING

  CHAPTER 12 A FRANK EXCHANGE OF VIEWS

  CHAPTER 13 THE RIVER

  CHAPTER 14 THE BIGGEST CUP

  CHAPTER 15 DOWN RIVER

  CHAPTER 16 ALL WASHED UP

  PART THREE THE CITY CHAPTER 17 INTO THE LIGHT

  CHAPTER 18 SANCTUARY

  CHAPTER 19 A VISITATION

  CHAPTER 20 AARON

  CHAPTER 21 OF KINGS AND EMPIRES

  CHAPTER 22 AARON'S STORY

  CHAPTER 23 AARON'S ARK

  CHAPTER 24 DOWN TO THE RIVER

  CHAPTER 25 ONCE A FOOL

  CHAPTER 26 THE DEPARTURE

  CHAPTER 27 RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

  CHAPTER 28 THE VOYAGE

  CHAPTER 29 THE PORT OF VELTAN

  Epilogue

  Sebastian Darke

  Prince of Explorers

  www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk

  Also by Philip Caveney:

  Sebastian Darke, Prince of Fools

  Sebastian Darke, Prince of Pirates

  Alec Devlin: The Eye of the Serpent

  SEBASTIAN

  DARKE

  Prince of Explorers

  PHILIP CAVENEY

  Illustrated by Julek Heller

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  ISBN 9781407048130

  Version 1.0

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  SEBASTIAN DARKE: PRINCE OF EXPLORERS

  A BODLEY HEAD BOOK

  ISBN: 9781407048130

  Version 1.0

  Published in Great Britain by The Bodley Head,

  an imprint of Random House Children's Books

  A Random House Group Company

  This edition published 2009

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Copyright © Philip Caveney, 2009

  The right of Philip Caveney to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in

  accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

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  THE RANDOM HOUSE GROUP Limited Reg. No. 954009

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  To my daughter, Grace.

  Sebastian Darke was created

  with you in mind . . .

  and like me,

  a part of him will always belong to you.

  PART ONE

  THE VILLAGE

  CHAPTER 1

  LOST

  The small expedition plodded wearily along the jungle trail in the terrible afternoon heat.

  It comprised four people and three beasts, and they had been moving in this frustratingly slow fashion for several weeks now. When they first found the trail, they had been excited, feeling that they were finally on the brink of making a discovery; but now it seemed as though it was leading them nowhere.

  At the front of the column walked a young elfling, thin and wiry and dressed in the sweat-stained remains of what had once been a sailor's outfit, now little more than a collection of rags. The tricorn hat perched on his head was battered and misshapen. He was using a broad-bladed machete to hack his way through the thick tangle of ferns and vines that overhung the trail, and the effort of swinging it back and forth had brought a thick sheen of perspiration to his pale but – some would say – handsome features. His hands and forearms were badly scarred by thorns and his palms were blistered where they had been rubbed raw by the handle of the machete.

  He was called Sebastian Darke and he had once advertised himself as a jester, the celebrated Prince of Fools. Every step he took on this desperate journey served to assure him that he might have been a little hasty in abandoning that title.

  Just behind him trudged a powerful warrior, sweating copiously in the chain-mail singlet and metal breastplate that, despite the awful heat, he stubbornly refused to take off.

  He was called Cornelius Drummel; he was a Golmiran and very small – unlike most men of his profession – less than half the height of Sebastian. His smooth baby face was set in a scowl and he was still limping noticeably from a recent wound incurred on the open sea, where he had suffered a minor disagreement with a young kelfer. The disgruntled expression on his face might have had something to do with the fact that his short stature prevented him from taking a turn at the head of the column. He simply couldn't reach high enough to cut aside the overhanging greenery that drooped down into the other men's faces. It was an unfortunate situation but it was one that none of the others dared comment on.

  Next in the column was a great shaggy brute of a buffalope, his massive shoulders and flanks laden with heavy equipment – ropes, tools, food, lamps, cooking pots – all strapped higgledy-piggledy around him. His name was Max and, unusually for him, he wasn't complaining. Having moaned incessantly for several days, he had lately taken to sulking in silence and his huge head was bowed until his snout barely skimmed the ground. He had been plodding along like this for the best part of a day and it was a situation that was unlikely to last much longer, so Sebastian and Cornelius were making the most of it.

  After their recent hair-raising adventures in Ramalat, the three friends had been hired by a rich merchant named Thaddeus Peel to seek out the legendary lost city of Mendip; and if they found it, to bring back proof of its existence. The city had been talked about for centuries. Many claimed that it contained fabulous treasure. Others said that the place was cursed and that ill-fortune awaited anyone who chanced upon it.

  Behind Max walked the hired hands – two big, muscular men from Ramalat who rejoiced under the names of Karl and Samuel. Neither of them had been employed for their witty conversation, but for their ability to travel mile after mile without complaint. Each of them led a small mule laden with equipment. Like their owners, these beasts, known as Betty and Jasper, were not the brightest of their species. On the first few days out from Ramalat Max had made valiant attempts to engage them in polite conversation, using the common language of the plains, but he now preferred to leave them t
o their own devices; when he had something to say, he directed his remarks to the two-legged members of the expedition.

  And it was to Cornelius that he finally addressed his first question in several hours of travelling.

  'I don't suppose there's any chance of stopping for a rest?'

  Cornelius sighed. 'I thought it was too good to last,' he muttered. He glanced back over his shoulder. 'We can't stop here, can we?'

  'Why not?'

  'It's too narrow. We need to find a clearing.'

  Max considered this for a moment. 'Couldn't we make a clearing?' he asked. 'With the machete.'

  Sebastian laughed at this idea, though there wasn't much energy in the laugh. 'I love the we,' he said. 'What you actually mean is, I could make a clearing. But that would involve cutting down entire trees and I'm exhausted enough as it is. We'll just have to keep going a while longer.'

  Max gave a low, mournful sigh. 'Oh yes, well, that's just the standard reply on this trip, isn't it?' He modulated his voice to mimic Sebastian's. 'We'll just have to keep going! Well, we've been going for what must be weeks now and what have we found? Absolutely nothing! When Thaddeus Peel told us this was an errand for the foolhardy, he wasn't kidding!'

  'Give it a rest, can't you?' growled Samuel, from behind Max; and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. It was virtually the first time he had uttered more than a grunt since they had set off.

  'Oh, excuse me!' said Max haughtily. 'I was only expressing an opinion.'

  ''Pinion or not, here we be, like it or lump it,' said Samuel emphatically. 'Ain't no use in complainin'.'

  'Arrr,' added Karl. For a moment it seemed as if he might be about to add something else, but he must have thought better of it.

  Max swung his head back round and continued for some distance in silence, mulling over what had just been said. But Sebastian knew that it was only a matter of time before he returned to his theme.

  'What I mean to say,' continued Max, 'is: how long are we going to go on with this fiasco? At exactly what point do we say, Well, we've given it our best shot, we're now completely and utterly lost and it's time to head back to Ramalat?'

  Sebastian paused mid-swing and considered that one. He had to admit, it was a good question. He glanced back down the line and gestured to Karl. 'You want to take over for a while?' he asked.

  Without a word, the big man strode forward, took the machete in one great fist and forged ahead, the arcing blade felling great swathes of forest. Cornelius dropped back to take Betty's rope, a look of resignation on his face. Sebastian realized how humiliating it must be for him to be unable to do his fair share, but knew there was nothing he could do about the situation, short of carrying him on his back while he swung the machete, and he simply didn't have the energy for that.

  He resumed walking just a short distance ahead of Max.

  'I know it's frustrating,' he said, 'but Mr Peel is paying us a great deal of money to be here. And, should we find anything of value, he'll pay us a great deal more.'

  'I'm aware of that,' said Max. 'But for goodness' sake, all we've seen in this hell-hole is jungle, jungle and more jungle.

  What do you suppose are the chances of happening upon an ancient city in the midst of all this?' Sebastian was about to reply when he broke off at a sudden chattering in the treetops to his left. Everyone stopped and turned to look. Cornelius's hand dropped instinctively to the handle of his sword but he grinned when he saw the creature that had made the sound – an agile, furry little beast that was swinging about in the trees, its face contorted into a comical expression.

  'What on earth is that?' he wondered aloud.

  'It's a boobah,' Sebastian told him. 'Don't you remember? Princess Kerin had one just like it.'

  The mention of the name made him thoughtful. There was a time when it would have hurt him to speak of her; but that seemed an age ago, before his trip to Ramalat and before he'd met Captain Jenna Swift, the commander of the Sea Witch and his current true love.

  Max, of course, couldn't resist commenting on the name. 'Ah yes, the fair Princess Kerin . . . or perhaps I should say Queen Kerin. Lovely girl. You know, I always rather hoped that we'd head back in the direction of Keladon one day. The royal stables did a marvellous lunch – one of the finest I've ever eaten.'

  'And you've eaten a lot of lunches,' observed Cornelius slyly.

  'Indeed, I do think of myself as something of a connoisseur,' said Max, missing the dig entirely. 'Speaking of which, I wonder what delights we'll have for our supper this evening. If I have to eat any more of that rotten— Ah! At last we're coming to a clearing!'

  Sebastian saw that he was right. The trail was finally widening out into a small opening in the midst of the dense ranks of greenery. There were more boobahs here, he noticed, swarming merrily amidst the lower limbs of the trees, chattering and gesticulating at each other, a great animated troop of them.

  'Perhaps we should try and catch one,' he mused aloud. 'They make good pets.'

  'Be my guest,' muttered Cornelius, sinking down under the shade of a tree. 'If you have the energy.'

  Sebastian considered for a moment and then decided that, quite frankly, he didn't. He followed his friend's example and dropped down beside him. He unstrapped his canteen and took a large swig of warm, foul-tasting water.

  'At least there's no shortage of this stuff here,' he said brightly, offering the canteen to Cornelius.

  The little warrior nodded and took a gulp himself, then pulled a face. 'Not like the sweet cold waters of Golmira,' he observed.

  Max snorted. 'Oh well, naturally! According to you, nothing's as good as it is in Golmira! It's a wonder you've never taken us there if it's so blooming marvellous.'

  'I will, one day,' Cornelius told him. 'I'll take you both there and introduce you to my parents.'

  'Oh goody, I can hardly wait.' Max glowered resentfully at the two mules, who had lowered their heads and were chomping energetically at the lush green grass all around them. The two handlers had sat down under another tree and taken out pipes, which they were charging with tobacco.

  'Of course, it's hardly likely to live up to this charming spot,' continued Max. 'I mean, look around! We've got dense, stinking vegetation everywhere. We've got two mules demonstrating the fact that they're the most ill-mannered creatures in existence. And we've got their owners, who seem intent on polluting the already foetid atmosphere with their pipe smoke.'

  'Why don't you belt up and browse a bit of grass?' suggested Sebastian irritably. 'It might help keep your energy up.'

  'Energy!' Max gave him a disbelieving look. 'I ate two mouthfuls of that stuff the other day and I was awake with raging wind all night!'

  'Yes, we did notice,' said Cornelius pointedly. 'But don't worry, I've made myself a set of ear plugs for tonight.'

  'Oh, ha ha! Please desist, I'm in danger of splitting my sides laughing.'

  Sebastian and Cornelius grinned at each other. Taunting Max was one of the few pleasures they'd had on this trip.

  'We've got company,' observed Samuel; and everybody looked up to see that a couple of the boobahs had clambered down from the trees and were advancing cautiously across the clearing, ready to run if they needed to. Sebastian laughed at the anxious expressions on their faces. They were holding out their hands as if begging.

  'What do you suppose they want?' he asked.

  'Food, I shouldn't wonder,' replied Cornelius. 'But I'm afraid we have none to spare. In fact . . .' He reached down to his belt and took out the various pieces that comprised his miniature crossbow. He began to slot the pieces together with well-practised ease.

  'What are you doing?' hissed Sebastian.