Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood)

by Simon R. Green

  The Seneschal seemed torn between apoplexy and a coronary, but finally settled for looking terribly old and put upon. “Why me, Princess? It’s a big Castle; there are hundreds of other people you could annoy. Why not go and persecute them instead?”

  “Now don’t be silly,” said Julia briskly. “I promise I’ll try really hard to be helpful and not get in the way.”

  The Seneschal winced. “Must you? You always do so much more damage when you’re trying to be helpful.” He noticed the storm clouds gathering on Julia’s brow, and sighed resignedly. “Oh, all right then. If you must. But stay close to me, don’t go off on your own, and please, Princess, don’t hit anyone until you’ve checked with me first.”

  “Of course not,” said Julia innocently. The Seneschal just looked at her.

  Which was why, some time later, Julia was boredly following the Seneschal down a dimly lit corridor somewhere at the rear of the Castle, and rapidly coming to the conclusion that this had not been one of her better ideas. And then the Seneschal took a sharp right turn, and everything changed. With all its many corridors and halls, it was inevitable that parts of the Forest Castle would fall into disuse, and Julia felt her interest reviving as it became obvious that nobody had walked this corridor in years. The wood-panelled walls were dull and unpolished, and thick spiderwebs shrouded the empty lamps and wall brackets. The Seneschal called a halt while two of the guards lit the lanterns they’d brought with them, and then he led the party on down the corridor. Julia drew the dagger from her boot and carried it in her hand. The dim light and the quiet reminded her uncomfortably of the Dark wood.

  The corridor eventually branched in two, and the Seneschal stopped the party again while he consulted several maps. Julia moved cautiously forward and studied the two branches. The left-hand fork seemed to curve round and head back the way they’d come, whilst the right-hand fork led into an unrelieved darkness that raised the hackles on the back of her neck. Julia shook her head to clear it, and made herself breathe deeply. The Darkwood was miles away. A little darkness couldn’t hurt her. Julia clutched tightly at the hilt of her dagger, as though for comfort, and smiled grimly. Even after all this time, she still needed a lit candle in her room at night, before she could sleep. Like Rupert before her, the long night had left its mark on Julia. Her heart jumped suddenly as she realized there was someone standing beside her, and then it steadied again when she recognized the Seneschal.

  “Which way?” she asked, and was relieved to find that her voice was still steady.

  “I’m not sure yet,” said the Seneschal testily. “According to all the maps, we should take the left-hand branch, but that feels wrong. That feels very wrong. No, to hell with the maps; we have to go right. Into the darkness.”

  “I might have known,” muttered Julia.

  “What? What was that? I do wish you wouldn’t mumble, Princess; it’s a very annoying habit.”

  Julia shrugged, unoffended. The Seneschal’s perpetual air of desperation made it impossible for anyone to take his remarks personally; he was so obviously mad at the world, rather than whoever he happened to be addressing at the time.

  “Why are we looking for the South Wing, sir Seneschal?”

  “Because, Princess, it has been lost for thirty-two years. That’s lost, as in missing, unable to be found, vanished from human ken; absent without leave. It may not have been a particularly impressive Wing, as Wings go, but we were all rather fond of it, and we want it back. That’s why we’re out looking for it. What else should we do; throw a party to mark the thirty-second anniversary of its loss?”

  “No, sir Seneschal,” said Julia patiently, “I meant, why are we looking for it now? You’ve managed without it all these years; why is it suddenly so important?”

  “Ah,” said the Seneschal, and peered dubiously at the Princess. “I suppose if I don’t tell you, you’ll just make my life even more of a misery.”

  “Got it in one,” said Julia cheerfully.

  The Seneschal sighed, glanced furtively at the waiting guards, and then gestured for Julia to lean closer. “It’s not exactly a secret, but I’d rather the guards didn’t know what we’re after until they have to. I’m sure they’re all perfectly loyal to the King … but why take chances?”

  “Get on with it,” said Julia impatiently, intrigued by the Seneschal’s uncharacteristic nervousness.

  “We’re looking for the South Wing,” said the Seneschal quietly, “because that’s where the Old Armory is.”

  Julia looked at him blankly. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  “The King intends to draw the Curtana,” said the Seneschal, “And the Curtana is in the Old Armory.”

  “Got it,” said Julia. “I’m with you now.”

  “I’m so glad,” said the Seneschal. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

  “Yes,” said Julia dryly. “If this Curtana is as powerful as everyone makes out, how is it that no one’s tried to find the Old Armory before, and take the sword for themselves?”

  “Over the years, a great many people have tried.”

  “So what happened to them?”

  “We don’t know. None of them ever came back.”

  “Terrific,” said Julia. “I notice you didn’t tell me any of this before we set out.”

  “I thought you knew,” said the Seneschal.

  “Assuming we get to the Old Armory,” said Julia, “a prospect that seems increasingly unlikely the more I think about it, I take it you will be able to recognize the Curtana when you see it?”

  The Seneschal stared into the darkness of the right-hand corridor, and smiled grimly. “The Curtana is a short sword, not more than three feet in length, and it has no point. Going back several hundred years, it used to be called the Sword of Mercy. It was presented to each Forest King at his coronation, as a symbol for justice tempered by compassion. And then James VII came to the throne. He took the Curtana and set a touchstone within its hilt…a sorcerous black gem that enslaved the minds of all who beheld it. Legend has it that the Demon Prince himself gave King James the stone, but records of that time are scarce. It was a time of murder and madness, in which the Curtana became the Sword of Compulsion, a symbol of tyranny. No one has drawn that blade since James was overthrown, but it’s said that even sheathed, the sword has an aura of blood and death and terror. I’ve never seen the Curtana, Julia, but I don’t think I’ll have any problem recognizing it.”

  The Seneschal turned away and glared at the waiting guards, who were peering into the darkness ahead and hefting their swords warily. “And now, if you’ve run out of questions for the time being, Princess, I think we should press on, before those neanderthals start carving their initials into the woodwork.”

  He paused just long enough for each guardsman to light his lantern, and then strode confidently forward into the gloom of the right-hand corridor. Damn the man, thought Julia as she and the guards hurried to catch up with the Seneschal, There’s a lot to be said for bravery and heroism, but this is getting out of hand. First he tells me horror stories about previous search parties that never came back, and then he goes marching off into the dark without even bothering to send in a few scouts first. Julia scowled, and shook her head. I should never have let them take away my sword …

  The party’s footsteps echoed hollowly back from the dust-covered walls, but even that small sound seemed to carry eerily along the quiet corridor. The guards huddled together and held their lanterns high, but still the darkness pressed hungrily against the sparse pool of light the lanterns cast. In the constant gloom, it was hard to judge distances, and Julia began to wonder if the corridor had an end, or if the damn thing just went on forever. She looked back the way she’d come, but the original junction was already lost to the darkness. There was a faint scurrying sound on the edge of her hearing, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t seem to place where it was coming from. Probably rats, she thought, hefting her dagger. After thirty-two years,

they probably think they own the place.

  “How can anyone lose a whole Wing?” She asked the Seneschal, more for the comfort of the sound of her voice, than because she cared about the answer.

  “It seems one of the Astrologer’s spells went wrong,” said the Seneschal absentmindedly, while dubiously studying a map in the light of a guardsman’s lantern. “No one’s quite sure exactly what he was up to, and since he’s still too embarrassed to talk about it, the odds are we’ll never find out, but apparently there was a massive explosion, and then in the space of a few moments all the doors and corridors that used to lead to the South Wing suddenly … didn’t. Those people who were in the Wing were able to get out, but nobody could get in. Legend has it that there were a few people unaccounted for, who never got out.”

  “What a horrible thought,” said Julia, shivering despite herself.

  “If you don’t want to know the answers, don’t ask the questions,” said the Seneschal testily. “Now quiet, please; I’m trying to concentrate.”

  Julia swallowed an angry retort, and the Seneschal went back to frowning over his map. The air grew steadily more stifling and oppressive as the party pressed on into the darkness, and Julia glared about her as the faint scuffling noises seemed to hover at the edge of the lamplight. The guards heard it too, and one by one they drew their swords. It’s only a few rats, Julia told herself sternly, but her imagination conjured up images of people watching from the darkness. Men and women, grown strange and crazy in their isolation. Children, who’d never known any other world than the South Wing. Julia took a firm grip on her dagger. Even rats can be dangerous, she thought defensively.

  And then Julia stumbled and almost fell as the floor lurched violently and dropped away beneath her. The corridor walls seemed to recede into the distance and then return, sweeping in and out in the space of a moment. Her sense of left and right and up and down reversed itself and then spun her dizzily round and round before snapping back to normal. A sudden darkness swallowed the lanternlight, and she could hear voices crying out in fear and anger, but only faintly, as if from a great distance. She felt she had to keep moving, but every step seemed harder than the one before, and her muscles ached with the effort it took to press on. A hideous pressure built within and around her, trying to force her back, but Julia wouldn’t give in. That wasn’t her way. The pressure reached a peak, but Julia could feel there were people in the darkness with her, helping her to fight back. She drew on their strength, and they drew on hers, and together they threw themselves forward. And then the light came back, and the world was steady again.

  Julia sank onto her haunches and breathed harshly as her head slowly cleared. She was exhausted and wringing with sweat, as though she’d been running for hours on end, but when she glanced around she found she was still in the same dark corridor. The only light came from a single lantern, held by a guard crouching beside her who looked almost as bad as she felt. Julia frowned suddenly, and looked back the way she’d come. The Seneschal was leaning weakly against a wall, glowering at one of his maps, but there was no trace of the other eleven guards.

  “What the hell happened?” demanded Julia, climbing shakily to her feet after waving away the guard’s proffered hand. “And where are the other guards?”

  “The South Wing is trapped inside some kind of barrier,” said the Seneschal thoughtfully, as he carefully refolded his map and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Presumably set up when the Astrologer’s spell backfired.” He glanced down the corridor, but the impenetrable dark gave nothing away. The Seneschal sniffed, and turned his back on it. “The other guards must still be on the other side of the barrier. Typical. Damn guards are never around when they’re needed.”

  Julia fought down an impulse to grab the Seneschal by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, and smiled at him reasonably. “Sir Seneschal, we can’t just leave them there …”

  “Oh, they’ll be safe enough; we can pick them up on our way back. It’s their own fault, anyway. We broke through that barrier because we refused to be beaten, and because at the end we worked together. The other guards weren’t up to that. A pity, but never mind. We’ve made it into the South Wing, and that’s all that matters. The first people in thirty-two years … Well, come on; there’s no point in standing about here, there’s work to be done.”

  And with that, the Seneschal grabbed the lantern from the guard’s hand and stalked off down the corridor without even a backward glance, leaving Julia and the guard to hurry after him. Julia studied the guard covertly as they followed the Seneschal deeper into the South Wing. He was short and stocky, with a compact muscular frame and heavily muscled arms. All in all, he looked rather like a giant who’d been cut off at the knees. He couldn’t have been much more than forty, but there was a certain grimness to his face that made him seem a lot older. His broad, heavily-boned features were capped by a close-cropped hair of so light a blond as to be nearly white, and there was a wary watchfulness to his eyes that Julia found reassuring. Whatever happened, this guard wasn’t the kind to be caught unawares.

  “My name’s Bodeen,” he said suddenly. “In case you were wondering.”

  “I hadn’t realized I was staring,” said Julia.

  “You weren’t,” he assured her. “But there’s not much I don’t notice.”

  “Keep that attitude,” said Julia, “and we may all get out of this alive.”

  They both chuckled quietly, but there was more tension than humor in the sound. The Seneschal stopped suddenly, gazed thoughtfully at a side turning, and then plunged into it. Julia and Bodeen followed. The Seneschal led them through a baffling series of twists and turns, down corridors and up stairways, in and out of spiderwebbed doors and passages, until the Princess had lost all sense of time and direction. She began to feel strangely disorientated, as though she was standing still and everything else was moving around her.

  Bodeen padded silently at her side like a cat on the prowl, his eyes constantly searching for possible dangers. Anywhere else, Julia would have found such behavior intensely irritating, but ever since she’d entered the South Wing she’d had the feeling someone was watching and waiting in the dark beyond the lantern’s light. No matter where she looked, or how quickly she turned her head, she never saw anyone, but still the feeling persisted, gnawing unmercifully at her nerves until she could have screamed from sheer frustration. She clutched her dagger hilt until her knuckles ached, and cursed herself for a fool for ever having volunteered to join the Seneschal’s party. She glared at his unresponsive back, and then had to pull up short to avoid crashing into it as he came to yet another sudden halt. He stood still a moment, his head tilted back like a hound searching the air for an elusive scent, and then he slowly lowered his head and turned to face her.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly.

  “How do you mean?” asked Julia, unwilling to voice her own fears aloud, in case they sounded ridiculous.

  “I’m not sure.” The Seneschal looked about him, and then shivered suddenly. “Whatever spell the Astrologer attempted all those years ago, it must have been a damn sight more powerful than he was willing to admit. It’s still here, echoing in the wood and stone, trembling on the air.”

  “You mean we’re in danger here?” asked Bodeen, raising his sword warily.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know!” The Seneschal frowned unhappily at Bodeen and Julia, as though expecting them to come up with an answer, and then turned his back on them. “We’re wasting time. The Treasury isn’t far. Let’s get on.” He communed briefly with his inner sense, and then strode confidently down a side corridor, leaving the guard and the Princess to hasten after him or be left behind in the dark.

  The silence bothered Julia more than anything, and not just because it reminded her of her time in the Darkwood. The endless quiet seemed to smother every sound, as though the silent Wing resented any disturbance. Bodeen methodically swept the darkness with his gaze, checking every door and passageway they passed, but there was never any sign to show the party was being watched or followed. And yet, in some strange way, it was the very absence of any sign or sound that convinced Julia they were not alone. All her instincts screamed to her of danger, near and deadly, and she knew with a deep inner certainty that something evil watched and waited in the darkness beyond the light. A blind panic welled up within her, and she crushed it ruthlessly. She’d be scared later, when she had the time.

  The corridor grew suddenly narrower, the walls crowding in out of the dark. The Seneschal’s lantern shed a dull yellow glow over faded tapestries and portraits of men and women long dead. He stopped suddenly before a closed, ornately carved door, and frowned thoughtfully. All at once, Julia felt a presence close at hand; something dark and dangerous and horribly familiar. She shot a glance at Bodeen, who was staring back the way they’d come. He hefted his sword with casual competence, but didn’t seem particularly worried. Julia glared at the closed door, and shuddered in spite of herself. There was something awful on the other side of that door; she could feel it in her bones. She licked her dry lips, and hefted her dagger.

  “Are you all right?” asked Bodeen quietly.

  “I’m fine,” said Julia, shortly. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place, that’s all.”

  Bodeen nodded unsmilingly. “It’s just the dark. Don’t let it throw you.”

  “It’s not just that! Don’t you ever listen to your instincts?”

  “All the time. But mostly I trust my eyes and ears, and so far I haven’t seen or heard one damn thing to suggest there’s anyone in this Wing except us, and a few spiders.”

  Julia shook her head stubbornly. “There’s something in here with us. And we’re getting closer to it all the time.”

  “If you two have quite finished,” said the Seneschal acidly, “you might possibly be interested to learn that we’re almost at the end of our journey. Beyond this door lies the South Tower, and beyond that lies the main entrance to the Treasury.”

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