Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels)

by Green, Simon R.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Then do us the favor of killing the first damned fool to draw his sword.”

  “Delighted, Your Majesty.” Chance had his father’s huge double-headed axe in his hands, bearing the great weight as though it were nothing, and Hawk felt a sharp frisson of memory as he saw the dead Champion’s cold killer’s smile on Chance’s lips. The dog Chappie was at Chance’s side, fur bristling, growling loudly. Everyone very deliberately took their hands away from their swords, including Sir Robert and Sir Vivian. Chance nodded slowly.

  “That’s better. See how much more fun sanity is? Everybody calm down, right now. Or they’ll be clearing up what’s left of you with a mop.”

  “How typical of the monarchy, to settle debate with the threat of violence,” said Sir Robert calmly. “Just another sign of how intellectually empty its position is. Take Hawk and Fisher, only here because Rupert and Julia declined to return. What are they but bullies with a little power? The Prince and Princess knew the days of monarchy are over, that’s why they’re not here.”

  “Bullshit,” said Hawk. “They just have other responsibilities.”

  “Yes, well,” said Sir Robert. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

  “In all the songs and stories I heard,” Hawk said slowly, “Rupert was your friend. Your comrade in arms. Together you fought the darkness to preserve the Forest Kingdom. Do you think he’d approve of what you’re doing now? Of what you’ve become?”

  “That was a long time ago,” said Sir Robert, meeting Hawk’s gaze steadily. “Everything has changed since then. Rupert was a hero because of what he did, not because he was a Prince. He fought for justice, and the preservation of the Forest people. If he was here now, I’d follow him in to hell itself, just on his word. But he isn’t here, and I don’t know you, Captain Hawk.”

  “Company’s coming,” said the Magus. And there was something in his voice that made everyone shut up and turn around.

  Through the open doors of the Court came Duke Alric of Hillsdown, last in the line of Starlight Dukes, striding into the Forest Court like he owned the place. Or at the very least was thinking seriously of leasing it. Twenty armed and armored guards accompanied him. The packed Court shuffled backward to open up a wide aisle for the Duke and his guards to walk down on his way to the Throne. Queen Felicity’s guards snapped to attention, and moved quickly in to stand on either side of her, glaring openly at the Duke and his guards. Alric ignored them all as he made his slow way toward the Throne.

  He was an old man now, in his late seventies, not much more than skin and bone. His face was deeply lined, dominated by a jutting chin and nose. His mouth was a grim flat line, the lips pressed so tightly together, they could hardly be seen. His eyes were sunken, but still sharp and bright. He’d lost his hair long ago, save for a few white wisps over each ear. Hawk’s first impression was that the Duke looked uncommonly like a vulture.

  The Duke was dressed in dusty gray formal attire, and his stick-thin body was held together by a series of leather straps and metal braces, encompassing his torso like a cage, and extending down both arms and legs. Straps and hinges creaked loudly as he walked. More sounds came from within him, and he grunted now and again with the simple effort of walking. But for all the obvious frailty of his worn-out body, there was no mistaking the fire, arrogance, and determination that kept him moving. The Duke was still a dangerous man, and everyone there in the Court knew it.

  “Damn,” Fisher said quietly, and Hawk could hear the shock in her voice. “He’s gotten old since I last saw him. He used to be such a fighter, such a warrior. Now look at him. Time’s eaten him away. Oh sure, he’s still the Duke. He’ll still be deadly as a coiled snake till the day they nail his coffin lid down. But I’m not afraid of him anymore. I don’t know this man. This old man. I wonder if he’ll know me.”

  Duke Alric crashed to a halt before the Throne and glared at Queen Felicity, ignoring everyone else. He was breathing heavily and his hands trembled, but his gaze was perfectly steady. The Queen did her best to look imperiously down on him, but it was clear to everyone how much of an effort that was.

  “Well, Daughter,” the Duke said finally, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant. “You’ve been drinking again. I can smell it.”

  “Well, Father,” said the Queen. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? Found something else in your quarters to complain about?”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Felicity. I put you on this Throne. I can remove you from it if I have to.”

  “You are addressing the Queen of the Forest Land,” Chance said calmly. “The correct form of address is Your Majesty. Do try not to forget again. I’d hate to have you dragged from this Court in chains for disrespect. Really. I’d hate it.”

  “Muzzle your dog, Felicity,” said Alric, not looking around. “Word has come to me that you are considering accepting these Guard nobodies in place of Rupert and Julia. You can’t do that. They’re not fit to investigate your husband’s murder. Send them away. Then send your faithful hound back to fetch Rupert and Julia, and demand they come home. Be a Queen, dammit.”

  “You just want me out of the way!” Chance said angrily, but the Duke still ignored him, his unwavering gaze fixed on his daughter, who was beginning to squirm under the pressure of his regard.

  “All right, you have a point,” she said reluctantly. “Rupert and Julia—”

  “Aren’t coming,” Hawk said flatly, moving forward to stand between the Queen and the Duke. Fisher was quickly there at his side, glaring at her father. “Fisher and I are here, and we will investigate this murder and uncover the guilty. We’re not going anywhere. We’re needed here. If just because we’re the only ones here without an axe of our own to grind. So back off, Starlight Duke, or I’ll cut your braces.”

  The Duke looked at him in silence. It had clearly been a long time since anyone had dared to openly defy him. Fisher seized the advantage.

  “Why would you want to see your daughter Julia again anyway, Duke Alric? Didn’t you condemn her to death all those years ago?”

  The Duke shrugged slowly. “She disobeyed me. She disappointed me. And since I had seven other daughters, I had to keep them in line somehow. Trust Julia not to do what was expected of her. Perhaps she’s afraid to come back and face me again.”

  Fisher grinned. “I rather doubt that. She faced the Darkwood, the long night, and the Demon Prince. An old man held together with knotted string and sealing wax isn’t much of a threat after that.”

  “I am the sovereign monarch of Hillsdown. You will not speak to me that way.”

  “Sure we will,” said Hawk. “You’re not the first ruler we’ve faced down, and you won’t be the last. You have no authority over us. We’re Hawk and Fisher. And we don’t bend the knee to anyone.”

  “Damn right,” said Fisher.

  Duke Alric turned to his guards. “Kill them.”

  The Hillsdown guards drew their swords and surged forward, silent and focused. Hawk and Fisher drew their weapons and went to meet them. Everyone else watched with open mouths as swords clashed, blood flew on the air, and Hawk and Fisher wiped the floor with all twenty guards. Chance hopped around the perimeter of the action shouting, “Don’t kill any of them! Please don’t kill them!” The Hillsdown guards were trained, experienced men, but they were no match for Hawk and Fisher, who were shaped and trained under harsher conditions than anyone in Hillsdown had known in generations. Soon there was a lot of blood on the floor, and more on the clothes of those courtiers who hadn’t stood far enough back, and there were moaning, wounded, and unconscious guards everywhere. The last few threw down their swords and surrendered, despite angry orders from their Duke. Hawk and Fisher looked around them, quietly satisfied, flicked drops of blood from their blades, and sheathed their weapons, not even bothering to look in Alric’s direction. Sir Robert Hawke started the applause, and most of the courtiers joined in. Queen Felicity looked as if she would have v
ery much liked to. Chance approached Hawk and Fisher, and sighed heavily.

  “Can’t you two get on with anyone?”

  “We didn’t kill anyone,” said Hawk innocently.

  “And that’s your idea of diplomacy, is it?”

  “Well, mostly, yes,” said Fisher. “Think of it as a statement of principles. Or not. See if we care. Now, where were we, Alric?”

  Chance moved quickly to stand between them and the Duke. “That’s enough. The Duke is a guest of this Court, and as such is under my protection. Guards are one thing. I can’t let you threaten the Duke.”

  “Spoilsport,” said Fisher.

  And then everything stopped as there came the sound of an awful iron bell, tolling far away. The terrible sound reverberated on the air like slow thunder, and everyone in the Court could feel it in their hearts and in their souls. The sound affected them all, like nails scraping down their bones. The awful bell rang on and on, like the Devil calling the damned to worship at his cloven hooves.

  “What is that?” asked Fisher. “What is that sound? Where’s it coming from?”

  “It is the great bell of the Inverted Cathedral,” said the Magus, raising his usually quiet voice to be heard above the din. “It hasn’t been heard in centuries.”

  “Then why is it ringing now?” asked Queen Felicity, almost desperately.

  “Something new has come into the Castle, something that changes everything,” said the Magus. He didn’t look at Hawk and Fisher.

  “Who’s ringing the bloody thing?” Lightfoot Moonfleet asked, her tiny hands clapped to her pointed ears.

  “I don’t know,” said the Magus. “The Burning Man, perhaps?”

  “The hell with who’s ringing it,” said Hawk. “How do we make it stop?”

  The Magus had no answer. Everyone in the Court had their hands over their ears now, but it didn’t help. The tolling of the awful bell of the Inverted Cathedral could have been heard by a deaf man, and a dumb man would have cried out in horror at the sound of it. People were crying now. Some were shaking or vomiting. Everywhere in the Court the light was dimming, and the shadows were growing darker. There was a sense of terrible presences moving inside the shadows. Everyone who had a weapon had drawn it. Panic was growing in the packed hall, held back only by lack of a common cause to attack or run from. And then the people on the edges of the Court, those nearest the shadows, began to sway and stumble like drunken men. The color went out of their faces and their eyes became vague, and there was something almost insubstantial about them, as though their very life was being sucked out of them. Their faces twisted with a terrible disgust, as though they were being drained by giant leeches. Some fell into the shadows, which swallowed them and consumed them like inky waters. The courtiers nearest those lost to the shadows fought each other in their desperate need to get away from the hungry darkness. The shadows grew larger, darker, deeper. The whole crowd was dangerously close to stampeding now. A few people cut at the shadows with their swords, but the steel slipped harmlessly through the darkness. Hawk and Fisher stood back to back, weapons at the ready, looking for an enemy they could fight.

  The Queen stood up before her Throne. “Do something, dammit! Somebody do something!”

  “The only spells I know strong enough to throw back an evil like this would probably kill the Court,” said the Magus. “If the situation deteriorates further, I may have to do that, but for the moment I think we’d be better off organizing a controlled evacuation of the Court.”

  “If they run, half of them will be crushed and trampled to death anyway!” snapped the Queen. “Do something!”

  “Alas, Your Majesty—”

  “You’re standing there making excuses, and people are dying!” said the witch Tiffany, bursting out of the crowd. “Typical sorcerer. Get out of my way.”

  She floated up into the air, the slippers falling from her rising feet, her long red hair floating around her untroubled face like a great crimson cloud. She rose above the noise and turmoil of the panicking crowd, her hands crossed on her breast, like some old Romantic’s vision of an angel. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in concentration. The iron bell missed a beat. And then Tiffany spoke, but the words were huge and magnificent, as though something greater spoke through her, with her voice.

  “Fiat Lux!” said Tiffany. Let there be light. And there was.

  A bright light, shining and brilliant beyond any color, swept through the Court like refreshing rain on a hot afternoon. It bathed everyone in its blazing glory, sleeting light through their bodies in a rush of calm and forgiveness. It filled the Court, bright as mercy, vivid as justice, driving out the dark and the shadows, which could not stand against it. Those people who had been swallowed up by the dark returned, blinking bemusedly, unharmed. And then the dark and the light were both gone, and the tolling of the awful bell stopped. The Court was just a great hall again, and the shadows were just shadows. People murmured to each other, holding hands and hugging one another. And only Chance saw Tiffany fall out of the air like a stone.

  He fought his way through the crowd to reach her, shoving aside personages far greater than he without a backward glance. He knelt beside the fallen witch, lying crumpled on the floor like a discarded handkerchief. He checked her breathing and her pulse, and then let out his breath in a relieved sigh as he found them both normal. He chaffed her hands and gently called her name, and Tiffany slowly opened her eyes, green as the most luscious grassy meadows of the Forest Land, and twice as warm. They smiled at each other, and for a long moment that was all they needed.

  “I wasn’t sure that would work,” she said indistinctly. “I never tried it before. Found the spell in an old forbidden grimoire I wasn’t supposed to know about. Technically, only a sorceress should have been able to power a spell like that. But somehow I knew that I could do it. Because it was needed. Am I making sense?”

  “As much as usual,” Chance said fondly. “Do you think you could stand up, if you leaned on me?”

  “I think so, Allen,” said Tiffany. “Promise me you won’t go away?”

  “I’ll always be there when you need me, Tiff,” said Chance.

  They rose slowly to their feet, Chance strong enough for both of them. They smiled into each other’s eyes, and neither of them noticed that rose petals were raining down around them.

  “Now, that was interesting,” said the Magus.

  “Is that all you have to say?” demanded Queen Felicity. “You’re supposed to be the official sorcerer to this Court. Why didn’t you do that?”

  “Because such a spell would almost certainly have destroyed me,” said the Magus. “So much power unleashed should have burned Tiffany to ashes, from the inside out.”

  “Then why didn’t it?” asked the Queen.

  “Damned if I know. But it is interesting.”

  “Never mind that now! What was that bell all about? And those shadows! What does it mean?”

  “I think it means that something in the Inverted Cathedral is waking up,” the Magus said slowly. “But I am unable at this time to ascertain who or what that might be.”

  “A lot of bloody good you are,” said the Queen, sinking back onto her Throne. “You couldn’t save my Harald, and you couldn’t save my Court. A witch from the Academy had to do it! I knew there was a reason why I let them hang around. Somebody bring that witch to me.”

  Chance brought Tiffany forward, and the witch curtsied low before the Throne. “I am Tiffany, Your Majesty. At your service.”

  “Look at you, girl,” said the Queen, smiling despite herself. “I never looked that good, even when I was your age. And that’s more years ago than I care to remember. You did good, Tiffany. We hereby appoint you official witch to this Court. You will join with the Questor in defending this Court from all its enemies, without and within. Work with the Magus, or not, as you please.”

  “I am honored, Your Majesty,” said Tiffany, curtsying again.

  “Yes, you are,” said the Q
ueen dryly. “You can start work by cleaning up all those bloody rose petals.” She looked out over the Court. “Everyone else, this session is now at an end. I think we’ve all had as much excitement as we can stand for one day, and I need to get my feet up for an hour or so, or I’m going to have one of my headaches. Duke Alric, you have our permission to retire to your quarters. We’ll send you back your guards once the surgeons have put them back together again. Sir Vivian and Sir Robert, save it for another day. Hawk and Fisher, get me some answers. Court is now dismissed.”

  She levered herself up out of her Throne, with sudden snapping sounds from her joints, and stalked off while everyone else was still in mid-bow and curtsy. Her guards hurried after her. Hawk turned to Sir Vivian.

  “We’re going to need quarters here. Prince Rupert said we could have his old quarters, in the Northwest Tower.”

  “You can’t have those!” said Sir Vivian. “They are for Royalty.”

  “Is anyone using them right now?”

  “Well, no,” admitted Sir Vivian. “We were maintaining them for Prince Rupert and Princess Julia, when they returned. But it wouldn’t be proper—”

  “We don’t do proper,” interrupted Fisher. “We can, however, get really cranky if we don’t get our way.”

  Hawk and Fisher looked meaningfully at the wounded and unconscious Hillsdown guards, and then looked back at Sir Vivian. One of the guards close at hand chose this moment to stir. Fisher stamped on the back of his head, and he fell gratefully back into unconsciousness. Everyone watching winced, including Hawk and Sir Vivian.

  “Oh, hell, have the bloody rooms!” said Sir Vivian.

  Sometime later Hawk and Fisher were preparing for bed in what used to be Prince Rupert’s old quarters. He was pleased to see they’d kept them just as he had left them. There wasn’t much there, just the same old bed and bare minimum of furniture. Someone had thoughtfully used a bedwarmer to take the chill off the sheets, and the adjoining bathroom was spotless. There were no frills or fancies, or anything other than the most basic of comforts. Rupert never had time for such things back then. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to decide whether the room still felt like home. Fisher came in from the bathroom, toweling her damp hair.