Blue Moon Rising

by Simon R. Green

  “Only when it mattered.”

  “I got the job done, drunk or sober!”

  “All except once,” said the King. “The one time it really mattered.”

  “Don’t,” whispered the Warlock. “Please.”

  “My Eleanor was dying, and you were nowhere to be found. I had to send men out to search the ale-houses and taverns and drag you back. And all the time I waited by her bed, my wife … my Eleanor … You could have saved her!”

  “I didn’t get back in time.”

  “You were drunk!” ‘

  “Yes,” said the High Warlock. “I was drunk.”

  He looked at the bottle in his hand, and after a moment he started to cry.

  Prince Harald stood impatiently before the closed main gates, hiding his growing irritation behind his usual calm mask while a servant fussed around him, adjusting the buckles on his armour. The many layers of overlapping chain-mail were hot, heavy and restricting, but Harald was a great believer in armour. No matter how good you were with sword and buckler, sooner or later you were bound to face someone better or luckier than you, and that’s when a good suit of chain-mail came into its own. Harald frowned slightly as he remembered his last fight with Rupert, here in the courtyard. His armour hadn’t saved him then. Harald’s face slowly cleared as he dismissed the thought. Things were different, now. Now, he had Flarebright. The Infernal Device hung down his back, the long hilt standing up behind his left shoulder. He caught glimpses of the hilt out of the corner of his eye every time he turned his head. Flarebright was eerily light for so large a blade, but Harald could still feel its presence with every move he made. There was a dull, unpleasant warmth the length of his back, as though the sword burned constantly like a hot coal in its scabbard. And sometimes, for no reason at all, Harald thought of how good it would feel to draw the Infernal Device, and cut down enemies without number …

  The servant finally finished his work, and Harald waved him away. He drew his usual sword from its scabbard at his side, and began a series of warming-up exercises. The solid weight of steel in his hand was a comfort to him, and he could feel some of the tension going out of his muscles as he moved gracefully through the familiar routine.

  He’d been taking his training a lot more seriously since Rupert beaten him, and he could feel the difference. He’d always been good, but now he was even better. Rupert’s grinning face hung before Harald’s eyes as he stamped and lunged and circled, his sword sweeping from thrust to parry to slash and back, over and over again. Flarebright’s scabbard slapped against his back with every movement, as though reminding him it was still there. Harald whirled and spun, his sword slashing brightly in the torchlight, but still he knew that once he was out in the long night, his own sword wouldn’t be enough, for all his skill and training. His only chance against the demons was to use the Infernal Device. Somehow, he wasn’t as eager to use it as he’d thought he’d be.

  He saw the King making his way towards him, but deliberately continued his exercises. He waited until the King had almost reached him, and only then looked up and came to a stop. He lowered and sheathed his sword in one fluid movement, and leaned casually back against the closed gates. He mopped at his sweating face with a handkerchief, and bowed slightly to the King, who nodded brusquely in return.

  “Ready for the battle, Harald?”

  “Of course, father.”

  King John stood silently a moment, as though waiting for Harald to say something more. Harald let him wait.

  “You wanted to speak to me, Harald?”

  “That’s right, father.” Harald wiped the last of the sweat from his brow, and slipped the handkerchief back into his sleeve. “I want you to marry Julia to me before the battle. There is still time.”

  King John looked at him incredulously. “You want what?”

  “I want Julia as my wife, and I want the ceremony performed now. It will do wonders for the morale of our people, and settle once and for all the somewhat nagging question as to whether I or Rupert is the favoured son. I need to be sure the people will follow me.”

  “Your marriage has been postponed,” said the King evenly. “Apart from the fact that this is neither the time nor the place for a wedding, I don’t want Rupert upset. It won’t be long before he’ll be riding out into battle alongside us, and there are those who will follow him where they won’t follow you.”

  “Precisely my point,” said Harald. “I am the eldest son, the firstborn. I am the one whose orders they should follow. Besides, there are other reasons for the marriage. It’s entirely possible that you and I and Rupert could all die in this battle, leaving the Forest Land without a ruler. If Julia and I were married, the royal line could still continue through her. And if, by some calamity, you were to die while Rupert and I both survived, my being married to Julia could well ensure my succession to the throne. Either way, holding the marriage now would make your wishes in the matter quite clear. Otherwise, we could win this battle against the darkness, and still lose the Land to civil war.”

  “No,” said the King. “I’ve given you my answer, Harald, and I don’t like to repeat myself. The wedding is postponed, indefinitely.”

  “I see,” said Harald. “So that’s the way the wind blows.”

  For a long moment the two men faced each other silently, their eyes locked. From all around them came the clamour and hubbub of the last army of the Forest Land, as it slowly readied itself for battle, but Harald and the King were deaf and blind to everything but the moment of conflict between them. King John studied his eldest son coldly. Harald and Rupert had always been at odds; it was only to be expected given their situation. But this sudden vehemence on Harald’s part had caught the King by surprise. In the past, Harald had always been ready and able to deal with Rupert on his own. He never lost his temper, and he knew how far he could go. But now … this was the first time Harald had ever turned to his father for help. King John frowned thoughtfully. Either Harald was genuinely fond of the Princess Julia, or he was seriously worried about Rupert’s rising influence in the Court. The latter was by far the most likely reason, but you could never tell with Harald. You could never tell anything with Harald.

  King John sighed, and looked away. He was sorely tempted just to turn and walk away, but he knew he couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t do to have Harald thinking the King was afraid to face him. It wouldn’t be … safe.

  “You are my eldest son,” said the King slowly, carefully meeting Harald’s gaze again. “When the gates finally open, you will ride out beside me, at my right hand. But Rupert is also my son, and he will ride at my left hand. It is vital for the morale of our troops that the three of us present a united front against the dark. Our army is going to have enough to worry about without having to decide whose orders they will and won’t obey. We don’t have time for politics any more. So, there is to be no more open dissension between you and Rupert. Is that clear, Harald?”

  “Perfectly clear,” said Harald.

  “Good,” said the King. “Then there’s nothing more we need to discuss, is there?”

  “I saw you speaking with the Warlock,” said Harald. “Is he still drinking?”

  “Of course. But he’ll do what’s needed, when he has to.”

  “Tell me,” said Harald easily, “I’ve always wondered, were the stories true?”

  “Stories?” said the King. “What stories?”

  “The stories about him and mother, of course. They say he loved her. They also say …”

  King John lifted his hand to strike Harald across the face, and then slowly lowered it again. Harald didn’t flinch, but his eyes were wary and watchful. The King sighed quietly.

  “Harald…”

  “Yes, father.”

  “You’ve the makings of a good King, Harald. You know politics and intrigue and law. You even understand the paperwork, which is more than I ever did. But you’ll need more than that if the people are to support you. Oh, you’ve charm enough, when you choos
e to use it, but … I don’t know where your heart really lies, and I doubt if anyone else does either. Sometimes I worry about you, lad. You’re my son. My blood and kin. Yet I swear you’re as much a stranger to me now as the day you were born.”

  “I’m what you made me,” said Harald, and then wondered why his father flinched at the words.

  The main stables stood dark and abandoned on the far side of the courtyard. The doors gaped open, unattended, and the horses and the grooms were gone. Inside the stables, a single lantern shed a golden glow over the end stall as Rupert saddled his unicorn. All around them small sounds were magnified strangely in the quiet, and echoes seemed to whisper on forever. The still air was thick with the smells of dirt and hay and horse dung. Rupert knew he should find the abandoned stable disturbing, but somehow he didn’t. If anything, he rather liked the quiet. It felt good to get away from everything and everybody, even if only for a while. Outside the stable doors, the constant babble of voices rose and fell like the dim, faraway pounding of surf on a beach, something too far away to have anything to do with him.

  Rupert settled the unicorn’s saddle comfortably into place, and then set about the many dangling straps. The unicorn looked a lot better than the last time Rupert had seen him. His wounds had been cleaned and roughly stitched, his mane and tail had been cleaned and combed, and there was even a little barley left in his feeding trough.

  “So how are you feeling?” asked Rupert.

  “Bloody awful,” said the unicorn. “If I felt any worse you’d be making glue out of my hooves. I can’t believe we’re actually going out to fight the demons again. Whose bright idea was that?”

  “Mine, actually,” said Rupert.

  “I might have known,” muttered the unicorn.

  “There’s no need to be like that. Just once more into battle, and then it’ll all be over.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Isn’t there something else we could try?”

  “Like what?”

  “Running away leaps to mind.”

  Rupert laughed tiredly as he tightened the cinch strap. “Where could we go? The darkness is everywhere now. No, unicorn, we either stand and fight, or wait to die. There’s nothing else left to us.”

  For a long while, neither of them said anything. Shadows pressed close about the lantern’s golden glow, and the air grew steadily colder. Rupert finished readying the unicorn, and then sank wearily down on to a pile of dirty straw. An hour at most, and then he’d have to go out and face the Darkwood again. Face the demons and the darkness and the horror of the endless night. Rupert yawned, and leaned back against the side of the stall. He was too tired to be really scared. The unicorn snorted suddenly, as though in response to some inner argument, and turned his head to stare at Rupert with calm, blood-red eyes.

  “Rupert …”

  “Yes?”

  “You once asked me my name. I told you then I’d sworn never to use my name until I was free again, but now… well. It seems to me that if I don’t tell you now, there might not be another chance.”

  Rupert shifted uncomfortably under the unicorn’s steady gaze. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

  “You’re my friend,” said the unicorn. “My name is Breeze.”

  Rupert got to his feet, and hugged the unicorn’s neck tightly. “Breeze,” he said, and then had to stop. When he felt he could trust his voice again, he let go of the unicorn and stepped back a pace so that he could meet the unicorn’s eyes. “Breeze, if by some miracle we actually survive this mess, you’re free. I swear it, by Blood and Stone. I’ll check the records to find which valley you were taken from initially; some of your old herd might still be there. Perhaps we could … go and look for them. Together.”

  “Yeah,” said Breeze. “I’d like that, Rupert.”

  “You don’t believe we’re going to survive this one, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “All right, then. By the authority vested in me, by blood and kin, by Blood and Stone, I hereby free the unicorn named Breeze from any and all obligations to me, and to my family. Okay, Breeze, that’s it. You are now a one hundred per cent independent individual. Or as near as any of us ever get to it.”

  “Is that all there is to it?”

  “What did you expect—a fanfare of trumpets? Or isn’t my word good enough for you?”

  “Your word has always been good with me, Rupert. But is it legal?”

  “Of course. I am a Prince, after all.”

  “I had noticed,” said the unicorn dryly. “Free. Free. I always thought I’d feel different.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Strange. Naked. I don’t know yet.”

  “Well, if nothing else, you don’t have to go back into the Darkwood again. I freed you from all obligations, remember?”

  “You wouldn’t last five minutes without me.”

  “That’s not the point, Breeze.”

  “Yes it is,” said the unicorn firmly. “I could have left you any time in the past. You gave me enough chances. When all is said and done, I stayed with you because you were my friend, and you needed me. No other reason. So let’s have no more nonsense about you going back into the Darkwood without me. We’re a team, and don’t you forget it.”

  “Still,” said Rupert. “You are officially free now. I’ve said the words.”

  “Don’t we need a witness?”

  “You have one,” said the Champion.

  Rupert and the unicorn looked quickly round, to find the Champion standing in the stable doorway. He inclined his head slightly to Rupert, who bowed warily in return. The Champion was wearing full plate armour. The burnished steel gleamed coldly under the lantern-light, its entire surface etched and engraved with heraldic signs and ancient magical wards. He carried a featureless steel helm under his arm, and his huge hands were sheathed in massive steel gauntlets. He looked impressive, menacing and totally unstoppable. “Sir Champion,” said Rupert steadily. “Is it time to go?”

  “Soon, Sire. The King tells me you refused to bear one of the Infernal Devices when it was offered to you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It was your duty to take the sword.”

  “My duty is to the Land, sir Champion. And those cursed swords are as much a threat to the Forest as the Darkwood itself.”

  The Champion nodded slowly. “You may well be right, Sire. But, then, I’ve never had much use for magic, myself.”

  Rupert looked sharply at the Champion. He seemed almost on the point of telling Rupert something, something important.

  “Have you seen the Warlock?” asked the Champion suddenly.

  “Yes,” said Rupert. “We talked awhile.”

  “He’s drunk again.”

  “I’ve never known him when he wasn’t.”

  “I have,” said the Champion. “But that was a long time ago.” He leaned back against the stable wall, his cold dark eyes staring past Rupert and into memory. “He was impressive, then. Could have been a Sorcerer Supreme. Could have been the legend everybody said he was. He could have been the greatest hero this Land has ever known.”

  Rupert listened carefully. There was hatred and bitterness in the Champion’s voice, but underlying all of that … something else. Something that might have been betrayal.

  “Sir Champion, why did the High Warlock leave the Castle after my mother died?”

  “He could have saved her. If he’d been sober. If he’d been there.”

  Rage twisted the Champion’s face, and Rupert wanted to look away. It seemed almost indecent to see such naked emotions in the face of a man who normally showed such control. “The Warlock was why I came to Forest Castle, Rupert. He was famous, and I wanted to be part of that fame, that legend. And so I came to serve your father, as his Champion. That’s when I learned the truth about the legendary High Warlock. Your mother was a great beauty, Rupert. Everybody said so. When she fell ill that summer, all the Land prayed for her recovery. Th
e Warlock was supposed to be with her, that afternoon. Instead, he left her by herself, and went off somewhere, drinking. By the time we found him and dragged him back, it was too late.

  “And then, he ran away. He ran away! I all but worshipped that man, Rupert, I believed in him. And he turned out to be nothing but a drunk and a coward. I could have forgiven him many things, but not that. Never that. He let your mother die, and then he ran away rather than face what he’d done.

  “And now he’s back, and once again all our fates rest in his stumbling hands. After all these years, despite everything I’ve believed as Champion, the Land’s destiny will be decided not by heroes and warriors and cold clean steel, but by one drunken coward and his magic!”

  The Champion turned suddenly and stalked out of the stables, his hands curled into massive impotent fists at his sides. Rupert watched him disappear into the waiting crowd. A memory came to him, of him and the Champion standing together on a hill, looking down over the Coppertown pit. Of the Champion telling how he had run away from the mines as a small child, and how he would never run from anything, ever again.

  Julia elbowed her way through the growing crowd, ignoring the glares and muttered curses of those she left in her wake. It had started out as a thoroughly rotten day, and it showed no signs of improving in its last few hours. She stopped and looked about her, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of Rupert somewhere in the courtyard, but he was nowhere to be seen. Julia sighed, and once again headed for the far corner where her troop of fighting women were waiting for her. She’d promised to lead them through one last weapons drill before the battle, not that it would make much difference. They’d come on well, much better than she’d expected, and certainly a great deal better than the Castle guards had ever expected. A few more months’ training, and they would have been good enough to … Julia smiled sourly. They didn’t have a few more months, or even a few hours. The gates would open at dawn, and shortly after that, her women would either be warriors, or dead.

  Julia’s hand tightened round the pommel of her sword till her knuckles ached. So much to do, and never enough time. Rupert had to be here somewhere, but nobody had seen him for ages. It was as though he’d fallen off the face of the earth. She had to find him before the battle began, she had to, but her women were waiting for her. Julia’s mind worked frantically as she plunged on through the crowd, searching desperately for a way out of her dilemma, and then a sudden calm fell over her as she realised there was no way out. Her women needed her, and she’d given them her word that she’d be there. Rupert would have understood. He knew a lot about duty.