Blue Moon Rising

by Simon R. Green

  “I really think it would be better …”

  “No,” said Julia, firmly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t ride a unicorn, that’s why not!”

  Rupert looked at the ground, and scuffed some dirt with his boot.

  “Oh,” he said finally.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means he’s thinking,” said the unicorn. “Always a bad sign.”

  “So I’m not qualified to ride a unicorn,” said Julia. “Big deal.”

  “Unfortunately, around here it is,” said Rupert. “Unicorn, you’ve gone lame.”

  “No, I haven’t,” said the unicorn.

  “Yes, you have,” said Rupert. “That’s why both Julia and I are having to walk.”

  “I suppose you want me to limp,” said the unicorn.

  “Got it in one,” said Rupert. “And do it convincingly, or I’ll see you’re fed nothing but grass for a month.”

  “Bully,” muttered the unicorn, and walked slowly away, trying out various limps for effect. Rupert and Julia exchanged a smile, and followed him down the road.

  The crowding trees soon gave way to a clearing, a moat, and the Castle. Rupert stopped at the edge of the moat, and frowned at the raised drawbridge; normally the Castle was only sealed during states of emergency. His frown deepened as he took in the empty battlements, and he mentally reviewed the land they’d passed through since leaving the Darkwood. There couldn’t have been a war or a rebellion, or they’d have seen burnt-out farms, and bodies lying in the fields for the gore crows. Plague? Rupert shivered suddenly as he realised he hadn’t seen a single living soul since his return, but common sense quickly pointed out that at the very least there’d have been sulphur fires burning, and crosses painted on doors.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Julia.

  “I’m not sure.” Rupert peered up at the gatehouse over the Keep. “Ho, the gate! Let down the drawbridge!”

  While he waited impatiently for an answer, Julia turned her attention back to the Castle.

  “It’s not very big, is it?” she said finally.

  Rupert smiled wryly. He had to admit that to the casual eye, Forest Castle wasn’t all that impressive. The stonework was cracked and pitted from long exposure to wind and rain, and the tall, crenellated towers had a battered, lopsided look. And yet somehow the familiar crumbling battlements and ivy-wrapped walls still had the power to stir him deeply. The Castle had stood firm against wars and pestilence, against darkness and decay, guarding his ancestors as they guarded the Land. Fourteen generations of the Forest line had been raised within those walls, fourteen generations of service. Rupert sighed quietly. Sometimes the past seemed to lie heavily on his shoulders. But even though he’d spent most of his young life praying for a chance to escape from the Castle, it was still his home and he was glad to be back.

  “The Castle’s much more impressive once you get inside,” he assured the Princess.

  “It would have to be,” said Julia.

  “We’ve four separate wings of a thousand rooms each, twelve banquet halls, three ballrooms, servants’ quarters, guards’ quarters, stables, courtyard …”

  Julia stared at the modestly sized Castle before her, no more than three hundred feet wide, and barely a hundred high. “You’ve got all that? In there?”

  “Ah,” said Rupert casually. “The Castle’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Cock-up at the architects,” said Rupert, grinning.

  “A thousand rooms to a wing,” muttered the Princess. “How do you heat the place?”

  “Mostly we don’t,” Rupert admitted. “I hope you brought some thermal underwear.”

  “How many rooms are there altogether?”

  “We’re not actually sure,” said Rupert, beginning to wish he’d never brought the subject up. “Some rooms are only there on certain days. And nobody’s been able to find the South Wing since we lost it thirty-two years ago. It averages five thousand, two hundred and fourteen rooms in the autumn. I think. Still, not to worry; you’re perfectly safe, as long as you stick to the main corridors.”

  He was saved from Julia’s response by a coarse voice from the gatehouse.

  “Oi! You by the moat! On your way, or me and the lads’ll use you for target practice.”

  Rupert glared up at the shadowed embrasures over the portcullis. Once inside, he’d have a few sharp words with the Officer of the Watch. No doubt there’d be a right old panic in the Keep once they recognised his voice.

  “Let down the drawbridge, fellow!” he called grandly, striking a regal pose.

  “Get lost,” came the answer. The unicorn sniggered audibly. Rupert’s hand dropped to his swordhilt.

  “Don’t you know who I am?” he asked tightly.

  “No,” said the voice. “Don’t care much neither.”

  “I am the Prince Rupert!”

  “No, you’re not,” said the voice.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right Castle?” Julia asked sweetly.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” said the unicorn. “Now you know why we’re always so glad to be away from it.”

  “I tell you I am the Prince!” howled Rupert, very much aware of how all this must look to the Princess.

  “Leave it out,” said the voice in a bored tone. “Everyone knows young Rupe got sent off on a quest to kill a dragon. He is missing, presumed dead. Now beat it, you pair of tramps, or we’ll string our bows and the dogs’ll get their dinner early.”

  “Tramps!” screamed Rupert. “I’ll kill him! I’ll kill them all!”

  “Easy, easy,” soothed Julia, hanging determinedly on to Rupert’s arm to stop him drawing his sword. “He does have a point, you know; we’re not exactly dressed as royalty.”

  Rupert glanced at their battered and travel-stained clothing and scowled even more fiercely.

  “Guard! This is your last chance!”

  “Push off, peasant.”

  Rupert was all set to explode on the spot when a determined voice carried clearly from the trees behind him. “Stand fast, Prince Rupert; I’ll fix him.”

  There was a slight pause, and then thirty feet of annoyed dragon erupted out of the trees, showering Rupert, Julia and the unicorn with leaves and broken branches. The dragon’s powerful wings brought him quickly to the raised drawbridge, and held him in position as his wickedly clawed feet reached out and dug in, rending the thick wood like so much paper. The guard in the gatehouse had a brief but clearly audible fit of the vapours, and then ran away, screaming for help. The dragon’s wings beat strongly as he threw his weight against the windlass holding the drawbridge up. Light shimmered on emerald scales as great muscles bunched and corded. There was a sudden squealing of chains, and Rupert, Julia and the unicorn stood well back as the drawbridge slammed down across the moat. The dragon glided down to join them, while Rupert and Julia applauded loudly.

  “Nice one,” said the unicorn. “Now they’ll probably send the whole bleeding army out to fight us.”

  Rupert led his party across the drawbridge, which shuddered under the dragon’s weight. Something stirred in the moat, and Julia peered dubiously at the shifting scum covering the murky waters.

  “Do you keep crocodiles in your moat, Rupert?”

  “Not any more,” said Rupert absently, keeping a watchful eye on the huge double doors at the other end of the Keep. “We used to, but then something set up home in the moat and ate them all.”

  “What was it?”

  “We’re not sure,” said Rupert. “It doesn’t really matter; if it can eat crocodiles, it can certainly guard a moat …”

  The massive oaken doors swung slowly open before them, and Rupert led his party out of the Keep and into the Castle’s courtyard. He stopped just inside the inner gates and stared about him, frowning. Even this late in the day there should have been traders at their stalls, haggling with a bustling crowd of
villagers and townsfolk. There should have been conjurers and gypsies, knife-sharpeners and tinkers, beggars and priests. There should have been guards at the gates, and men-at-arms watching from the battlements: Instead, the vast empty courtyard lay still and silent before him. No braziers or torches disturbed the courtyard’s gloom, and the shadows seemed very dark. Rupert moved slowly forward, the noise of his soft footsteps resounding in the quiet.

  “Where the hell is everybody?”

  His words echoed hollowly back from the towering stone walls around him, and there was no reply.

  “I’ve seen livelier graveyards,” muttered Julia.

  “If I see anything that looks even remotely like a cross painted on a door, I’m leaving,” said the unicorn, rolling his eyes nervously. “Something’s wrong here; I can feel it in my water.”

  “Oh shut up,” snapped Rupert. “If there was a plague they wouldn’t have opened the gates to us, dragon or no dragon.”

  “I take it things aren’t normally this… peaceful,” said the dragon.

  “Not usually, no,” said Rupert tightly. He came to a halt at the bottom of the long flight of steps leading up to the main entrance hall, and glowered warily at the closed entrance doors. “There must have been some kind of emergency in the Land. Something so menacing that the Castle itself had to be stripped of its defenders, and then sealed against the outside world.” He stared up at the unmanned battlements and catwalks, and shivered suddenly. “But what kind of threat …”

  “The Darkwood,” said a quiet voice.

  Rupert spun round sword in hand as torchlight spilled suddenly into the courtyard. At the top of the flight of steps, a tall, imposing figure swathed in shining chain-mail stood half-silhouetted before the slowly opening entrance-hall doors. Broad shoulders topped an impressively muscled frame, and the torchlight glowed ruddy on the huge double-headed axe in his hands. Julia drew her sword and moved protectively in beside Rupert as a dozen armed guardsmen burst out of the hall to reinforce the silently watching figure.

  “Friends of yours?” said Julia casually.

  “Not necessarily,” said Rupert.

  For a long moment nobody moved, and then the tall figure lowered his axe and smiled.

  “Welcome home, Prince Rupert.”

  “Thank you, sir Champion. Good to be back.” Rupert bowed slightly, but didn’t sheathe his sword. “Surprised to see me?”

  “Just a little.” The Champion stared thoughtfully past Rupert’s shoulder. “I see you found a dragon.”

  “That’s right,” said Rupert calmly. “Now do you want to get rid of those guards, or shall I tell him supper’s on?”

  The Champion laughed, and dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. They disappeared back into the entrance hall as the

  Champion strode majestically down the steps to greet Rupert and his party. Prince and Champion stared at each other thoughtfully, and Julia frowned as she realised neither man had put aside his weapon yet. The Champion worried her. He had to be at least forty, but he carried the massive war axe as if it was a toy. Old scars patterned a hard, unyielding face, and his constant slight smile wasn’t reflected in the cold, dark eyes. Killer’s eyes, thought Julia, and shivered suddenly. Just standing there, he made her feel … uneasy.

  “Well,” said Rupert softly, “what’s the situation these days?”

  “No change, Sire,” said the Champion. “I still may have to kill you.”

  “For the good of the Realm?”

  “Yes, Sire. For the good of the Realm.”

  They locked eyes, and Rupert looked away first. The Champion glanced at Julia.

  “And who might this be?”

  “The Princess Julia,” said Rupert.

  The Champion bowed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, Sire, I’ll see that a room is made ready for your guest.”

  He turned and made his way unhurriedly back up the steps to the entrance hall. Rupert swore under his breath and sheathed his sword with unnecessary violence. Julia glanced uncertainly after the departing Champion, and then sheathed her sword too.

  “What was all that about him killing you?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m a second son, remember?” said Rupert grimly. “My brother’s first in line for the throne, but there are any number of factions within the Court ready to use me as a figurehead in their grab for power. The Champion’s duty is to preserve the Realm; he’d cut me down in a moment if he thought it would prevent a civil war. I’ve known that all my life. I was supposed to die on the quest, and save everyone a lot of bother. Instead, I’ve come back at a difficult time, and he’s afraid I might try to take advantage of the situation, whatever it is.”

  “Would you?” asked Julia. “Take advantage, I mean.”

  “I don’t know,” said Rupert. “I suppose …”

  “Quiet,” said the unicorn. “He’s coming back.”

  A handful of courtiers and Ladies-in-Waiting jostled for position at the entrance-hall doors as the Champion made his way back down the steps, accompanied by four armed guards wearing scarlet and gold colours. Julia’s hand dropped to her sword again.

  “It’s all right,” said Rupert quickly. “They’re just an escort.”

  Julia glared suspiciously at the guards, and then seemed to relax a little, but Rupert noticed uneasily that her hand still rested on the pommel of her sword. A polite cough drew his attention back to the Champion waiting patiently before him.

  “Yes, sir Champion?”

  The Champion studied Rupert at length. “Interesting scars you have on your face, Sire.”

  “Cut myself shaving.”

  “And what happened to your armour?”

  “I left it in the Tanglewood. It got in the way.”

  The Champion shook his head slowly. “I’ve sent word of your arrival to the Court, Sire. I think you’d better pay your respects to your father.”

  Rupert winced. “Can’t it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not.” The Champion’s voice was polite, but his cold, inflexible gaze allowed no room for disagreement. “As you may have gathered, Sire, we have a problem on our hands.”

  Rupert nodded warily. “You mentioned the Darkwood …”

  “Yes, Sire. It’s spreading.”

  Rupert stared at the Champion in disbelief. The Darkwood’s boundaries hadn’t shifted by so much as an inch in centuries. “How fast is it moving?”

  “Half a mile a day. The Tanglewood has already fallen to the long night, and demons are loose in the Forest. The Darkwood will be here in a matter of months. Unless we find a way to stop it.”

  “Stop it? You couldn’t even slow it down!” Rupert didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He fought down an impulse to grab the Champion and shake some sense into him, and struggled to keep his voice calm. “We came back through the Darkwood, sir Champion. The place is crawling with demons. We were lucky to get out alive, and we had a dragon with us.”

  “We have trained soldiers,” said the Champion mildly.

  “Oh yes?” said Rupert. “Where?” He glared pointedly round the deserted battlements, but the Champion’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “Demons have been attacking the outlying farms and villages, Sire; we’ve had to send out every guardsman and man-at-arms we can spare to protect them. The outermost settlements are being evacuated, but since no one dares travel by night, it’s a slow process. Too slow. Every night we lose more men. The demons have grown … cunning.”

  “Yes,” said Rupert quietly, remembering. “They hunt in packs now.”

  “That’s not possible,” said the Champion flatly.

  “Bull,” said Julia. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Demons don’t co-operate,” the Champion insisted, ignoring Julia.

  “They do now,” said Rupert. “Why have you sealed the Castle?”

  “Demons have been here,” said the Champion. “When night falls, they appear at the clearing’s edge, watching from the shadows, their eyes glowing i
n the night like coals. So far they’ve made no move against the Castle, but every night there are more. It’s as though they’re … waiting for something.”

  Rupert bit his lower lip thoughtfully. If the Darkwood was still several months away, what were demons doing so far ahead of the darkness? And where were they hiding during the day? He shook his head slowly in disgust.

  “Since I’ve had the most recent experience of the Darkwood, I suppose that makes me an expert … I’d better see my father.”

  “Yes, Sire. The Court is waiting. With respect, sire, don’t expect too much. Every faction in the Court seems to have its own plan for dealing with the Darkwood, none of them worth a damn. Your father listens to all of them, which is why nothing’s been done. Try to make him understand, Sire; there are decisions that must be made. He can’t go on putting them off.”

  Rupert stared at the Champion thoughtfully. He was being set up for something; he could tell. The last time everyone started calling him ‘Sire’, he’d ended up travelling through the Darkwood in search of a dragon.

  “Where’s Harald?” he asked suspiciously. “He’s always been the practical one of the family.”

  The Champion shrugged. “I don’t think your brother really believes in the Darkwood.”

  Rupert snorted. “I’ll change his bloody mind for him. All right, take me to the Court. No, wait a minute; I’ve a bone to pick with you. That guard at the gatehouse—”

  “Has been replaced,” said the Champion. “Now, Sire, I think we’ve wasted enough time here. The Court is waiting.”

  “Let them,” said the dragon. “I want a word with you.”

  His massive head swung down till the great golden eyes were on a level with the Champion’s. The armed escort fell back in disarray, but the Champion stood his ground.

  “Rupert is my friend,” said the dragon. “You threatened to kill him.” Bright sparks glowed suddenly in the dragon’s nostrils, and two thin plumes of smoke drifted up on the still evening air. The Champion didn’t move a muscle.

  “I have my duty,” he said steadily.

  “To hell with your duty,” said the dragon.

  The Champion glanced at Rupert, who was watching the scene with undisguised glee. All his life he’d walked in the Champion’s shadow, knowing he lived or died at that man’s whim. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and he intended to enjoy it while it lasted. The Champion took in Rupert’s grin, and turned reluctantly back to the dragon.