Sebastian. 'No, you'll be all right. You're strong . . .'
But Max shook his horned head. 'It is not to be, my young friend.' He gasped as though a sudden pain had washed over him. 'My race is run and I . . . I feel my ancestors calling to me.' He stared up at the blue sky. 'They call me now to the eternal pasture. After a life of toil, who can deny me a little rest?' He looked into Sebastian's eyes, which were filling with tears. 'No, don't cry for me, young master. This is not a time for grief! Dry your eyes and look to the future. When I finally meet your father, I shall tell him he has a son to be proud of. And my spirit will watch over you on the remainder of your journey.'
'Max, please don't speak like this.' Now Sebastian was weeping openly. 'We'll get you fixed up. I'll find herbs and make a poultice. With a few days' rest you'll be all right. You've still got years ahead of you.'
'If only that were so.' Max gave a little sigh and his eyelids fluttered. 'But I feel the darkness creeping over me.'
Sebastian shook his head. 'Please, old friend. Please don't leave me!'
'I . . . I must. Speak well of me when I am gone. Tell every?one you meet that you once knew a buffalope who was a fine and noble— Oww!'
He broke off suddenly as Cornelius reached up on tiptoe and wrenched the arrow out of his side. 'Do you mind?' he protested. T was just making my dying speech.'
'You're not dying,' Cornelius told him flatly. 'This thing barely broke the skin. It'd take more than that to get through your tough old hide.'
'But – it's a mortal wound,' protested Max.
'Mortal wound, my backside,' said Cornelius bluntly. 'It's a scratch. I've never heard such a fuss in all my born days.' He tossed the arrow aside and moved away in search of some equines to pull the royal carriage.
Sebastian gave Max a withering look. 'A mortal wound,' he said, through gritted teeth. 'Life blood draining away. Honestly!' He turned and began to walk after Cornelius.
'Well, it felt like a mortal wound!' shouted Max indignantly. 'It was quite deep actually.'
'Cornelius said it was nothing.'
'That . . . that's easy for him to say. He's not the one with an arrow sticking out of him. It . . . it could have been poisoned! You didn't think about that, did you? Even now, I could be doomed. Doomed!'
Sebastian caught up with Cornelius, who was having a quiet chuckle.
'He's got some imagination, that one,' he observed.
Sebastian dashed the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. 'That is absolutely the last time I listen to him,' he said. 'I really thought for a minute he was—' He shook his head. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dying', as though saying it might somehow make it happen. 'He saved my life back there, you know. Charged down a Brigand who was moving in for the kill. I . . . I don't know what I'd do without Max. He's always been there, ever since I was a baby.'
Cornelius slapped him heartily on the hip. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's round up those equines and get this show back on the road. We've still got quite a journey ahead of us.'
CHAPTER 8
LADY IN WAITING
It took them quite some time to hunt down the equines. They were warrior's mounts, unused to the arduous task of pulling a heavy wagon, but they would have to do. Max, meanwhile, seemed to have accepted that his recent wound was not life threatening and announced himself ready to continue.
Sebastian and Cornelius were just making a few last-minute repairs to Max's harness, which had been damaged in the skirmish, when Princess Kerin came stalking over, looking decidedly impatient.
'Aren't we ready to go yet?' she demanded tetchily. 'I'm bored!'
Cornelius bowed his head and elbowed Sebastian's leg to make him do likewise. 'Very nearly, your highness,' he assured her. 'Just a few final preparations to make and we'll be on our way. I am, however, somewhat concerned—'
'Concerned, little man? About
But Max shook his horned head. 'It is not to be, my young friend.' He gasped as though a sudden pain had washed over him. 'My race is run and I . . . I feel my ancestors calling to me.' He stared up at the blue sky. 'They call me now to the eternal pasture. After a life of toil, who can deny me a little rest?' He looked into Sebastian's eyes, which were filling with tears. 'No, don't cry for me, young master. This is not a time for grief! Dry your eyes and look to the future. When I finally meet your father, I shall tell him he has a son to be proud of. And my spirit will watch over you on the remainder of your journey.'
'Max, please don't speak like this.' Now Sebastian was weeping openly. 'We'll get you fixed up. I'll find herbs and make a poultice. With a few days' rest you'll be all right. You've still got years ahead of you.'
'If only that were so.' Max gave a little sigh and his eyelids fluttered. 'But I feel the darkness creeping over me.'
Sebastian shook his head. 'Please, old friend. Please don't leave me!'
'I . . . I must. Speak well of me when I am gone. Tell every?one you meet that you once knew a buffalope who was a fine and noble— Oww!'
He broke off suddenly as Cornelius reached up on tiptoe and wrenched the arrow out of his side. 'Do you mind?' he protested. T was just making my dying speech.'
'You're not dying,' Cornelius told him flatly. 'This thing barely broke the skin. It'd take more than that to get through your tough old hide.'
'But – it's a mortal wound,' protested Max.
'Mortal wound, my backside,' said Cornelius bluntly. 'It's a scratch. I've never heard such a fuss in all my born days.' He tossed the arrow aside and moved away in search of some equines to pull the royal carriage.
Sebastian gave Max a withering look. 'A mortal wound,' he said, through gritted teeth. 'Life blood draining away. Honestly!' He turned and began to walk after Cornelius.
'Well, it felt like a mortal wound!' shouted Max indignantly. 'It was quite deep actually.'
'Cornelius said it was nothing.'
'That . . . that's easy for him to say. He's not the one with an arrow sticking out of him. It . . . it could have been poisoned! You didn't think about that, did you? Even now, I could be doomed. Doomed!'
Sebastian caught up with Cornelius, who was having a quiet chuckle.
'He's got some imagination, that one,' he observed.
Sebastian dashed the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. 'That is absolutely the last time I listen to him,' he said. 'I really thought for a minute he was—' He shook his head. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dying', as though saying it might somehow make it happen. 'He saved my life back there, you know. Charged down a Brigand who was moving in for the kill. I . . . I don't know what I'd do without Max. He's always been there, ever since I was a baby.'
Cornelius slapped him heartily on the hip. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's round up those equines and get this show back on the road. We've still got quite a journey ahead of us.'
CHAPTER 8
LADY IN WAITING
It took them quite some time to hunt down the equines. They were warrior's mounts, unused to the arduous task of pulling a heavy wagon, but they would have to do. Max, meanwhile, seemed to have accepted that his recent wound was not life threatening and announced himself ready to continue.
Sebastian and Cornelius were just making a few last-minute repairs to Max's harness, which had been damaged in the skirmish, when Princess Kerin came stalking over, looking decidedly impatient.
'Aren't we ready to go yet?' she demanded tetchily. 'I'm bored!'
Cornelius bowed his head and elbowed Sebastian's leg to make him do likewise. 'Very nearly, your highness,' he assured her. 'Just a few final preparations to make and we'll be on our way. I am, however, somewhat concerned—'
'Concerned, little man? About
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