Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels)

by Green, Simon R.

  “Where did all this come from?” Hawk said.

  “The Cathedral has resumed its proper place in the sun,” said Lament. “It soars up into the sky, as it was always meant to do.”

  “And the Castle’s expanded to its original size, around the Cathedral!” said the Seneschal excitedly. “I can feel it! This is what the Castle was originally meant to look like before its interior collapsed into the mess we’re all used to! A place where rooms stand still, and passageways go where they’re meant to, and doors always open onto the same location.” The Seneschal grinned happily. “For the first time in centuries, the Castle makes sense. This is going to make my job so much easier. No more shifting rooms, no more seasonal migrations. A place for everything and everything in its place. Permanently. I may cry.”

  “You can see all the way to the Forest boundaries,” said Fisher in amazement. “This place is higher than Dragonslair Mountain.”

  “It’s not all good news,” said Hawk. He pointed, and everyone saw the dark patch in the depths of the Forest, like a black stain in the greenery, a shadow on the Land. “The Darkwood’s still with us.”

  Fisher took his arm and hugged it to her. “The Demon Prince is gone forever. And with no Gateway to anchor it here, and no more Wild Magic to sustain it, the Darkwood will probably just fade away over the years. No more long nights of the soul, Rupert. For any of us.”

  They all looked out over the Forest and the Land, and with the Cathedral returned, the sky seemed bluer, the sun seemed brighter, and the air seemed fresher, as though an ancient burden had finally been lifted from the Forest Kingdom.

  “All the sacrificed dead have been released from the Cathedral,” said Lament, almost dreamily. “I felt them go. Free at last to go to their rest and their reward.”

  “All the blood is gone from the Castle interior,” said the Seneschal. “God, my powers are sharp right now. I could see a pin drop. All the art and statues are whole again. I feel like I could read the contents of the prayer books if I wanted to. And I could point to every room in the Castle …” He broke off suddenly and looked at Lament. “The Ossuary. The Museum of Bones—it’s still there. I suppose because it was constructed by human hands rather than magic.”

  “It must be dismantled,” Lament told him. “Bone from bone until they can all be identified and returned to their proper graves and their proper rest. If only for the peace of mind of the families involved.”

  “There are bound to be some old records, if I dig deep enough,” said the Seneschal. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  Hawk looked at Lament. “You’ve still got the box. The Source. What are you going to do with it?”

  Lament considered for a moment. “Only the four of us know the significance of the box. And since it cannot easily be opened, I think I’ll take it back to the Ossuary and leave it there, hidden in plain sight among all the other relics. Just a small wooden box with a dubious provenance. And when the Ossuary is finally gone, let the box go to some small country church and be forgotten. Disappeared from history until it’s needed again.”

  “You were meant to be there in Reverie,” said Hawk. “Only you could have opened the box … and closed it again. That light …” He stopped and shuddered briefly. “It was like looking God in the eye.”

  “Part of my job,” said Lament. “Part of being the Walking Man. But I don’t think I want to be the Wrath of God anymore. I don’t think I could ever be happy sentencing even the most evil of men to Hell, not after what I’ve seen. I’m only a man, after all, with a man’s fallible judgment and temper. But I’m not sure I can stop being the Walking Man. The compact I made doesn’t allow—”

  “Compacts are drafted by men, for men,” Fisher broke in. “I think God knew you needed to be the Walking Man after what happened at your monastery, so he let you hold the post for as long as you needed it. Now you don’t anymore; maybe it’s time for someone else to be the Walking Man. Someone who needs it more than you.”

  “But how can I be sure?” asked Lament.

  “Ask your voice,” said Hawk. “Nothing to stop you from hearing it now, is there?”

  Lament listened, and knew immediately that the voice was gone. God had freed him to be just a man again, with all a man’s weaknesses and limitations. His life no longer had a purpose and a destiny, and Jericho Lament thought he’d never been happier.

  They all looked out over the glorious view, and it felt like the morning of the first day.

  Hawk and Fisher went straight to their rooms, collapsed into bed, and slept around the clock. At ten o’clock the next morning, after repeated attempts to awaken them by knocking loudly, shouting even more loudly, kicking the door with steel-tipped boots, and then all three together, the Queen’s messenger finally summoned one of the Seneschal’s people, and had him unlock the door with his passkey. The Queen’s messenger then stormed into the room, nose stuck firmly in the air, and Hawk and Fisher snapped out of their deep sleep in a moment.

  Alert to the presence of a possible enemy, they tossed back the bed covers, snatched up their swords, and threw themselves at the startled messenger. In a moment they had him slammed back against the nearest wall, with two swordpoints at his throat. The messenger started to scream for help, and then swallowed it immediately as two swordpoints dug deep enough into his throat to draw blood. He whimpered feebly, and would have fainted if he dared. Not least because Hawk and Fisher never bothered with nightshirts, and were in fact both stark naked. The messenger stared determinedly at the ceiling, averting his eyes so fiercely, they almost rolled back to the whites, and shouted the word Messenger! so loudly, he hurt his throat.

  “A likely story,” said Fisher. “Probably a peeping tom. He looks like a peeping tom.”

  “Be fair,” said Hawk. “That is a messenger’s uniform he’s wearing, now I look closely. And no one else would wear an outfit that garish unless absolutely forced to. You couldn’t get me into it on a bet.”

  “It had better be a bloody important message,” said Fisher. “Or I am going to makes sausages out of you, messenger. I was right in the middle of a really nice dream, and now I’ll never know how it ends.”

  “Was I in it?” asked Hawk.

  Fisher grinned. “Tell you later.”

  “Messenger, why are you doing that thing with your eyes?” asked Hawk. “It looks really painful.”

  “You’re not wearing any clothes!” yelled the messenger. “So I’m averting my gaze. I can’t look upon honored guests unclothed. It wouldn’t be at all proper. And by the way, that’s a really unfortunate place to have a mole.”

  “You looked!” accused Fisher.

  “I’ve never liked nightshirts,” said Hawk. “They creep up on you in the night. If it got cold in Haven, we just threw another blanket on the bed. Now, what do you want, messenger?”

  “The Queen is holding a special Court,” said the messenger. “Right now. She wants to see both of you there, as soon as possible. Though probably not quite as much of you as this. Could you please put me down? I think I’m going to have one of my funny turns.”

  Hawk and Fisher lowered their swords, and let him go. The messenger edged away from the wall, trying to locate the door while still averting his eyes.

  “Never burst in on us again,” said Hawk.

  “Absolutely not,” agreed the messenger. “Can I go now, please? I’d really like to change these trousers and put them in to soak before the stain sets.”

  “The door’s right in front of you,” said Fisher. “Tell Felicity we’ll be there in a while.”

  “I’m sure she’s counting the moments,” said the messenger. He found the door and left the room, walking just a little stiff-leggedly.

  Hawk and Fisher dropped their swords on the bed and got dressed, picking up their clothes from where they’ddropped them the night before. They didn’t bother hurrying. It was only the Queen.

  “It’s probably all over the Castle by now,” said Hawk.

  “W
hat, about my mole?”

  “No, that we’ve saved the Land one more time. The Seneschal never could hold on to a good piece of gossip.”

  “So what does Felicity want to see us for?” asked Fisher, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on her boots. “It’s a bit late for a progress report.”

  “It’ll either be a medal or a kick in the arse,” said Hawk. “That’s all Royalty ever hand out at sudden, unexpected meetings.”

  Fisher buckled on her swordbelt, and went over to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and there were deep shadows under her eyes. She stuck out her tongue, grimaced, and reluctantly put it back again. She looked moodily at her blond hair.

  “I wonder how people will react to seeing us,” she said slowly. “I’ve suddenly gone fair, and you’ve got two eyes again.”

  “The Seneschal and Lament know who we are,” said Hawk.

  “I think the Seneschal always did. Do you think they’d talk?”

  “Hell with them all,” said Hawk. “We’ll bluff it out.”

  When they finally entered the Court, breezing past the guards at the double doors like they weren’t even there, Queen Felicity was sitting on the Throne with a drink in one hand and her long cigarette holder in the other. She didn’t seem unduly upset at her guests’ tardiness, which rather annoyed Fisher, and beckoned for them to approach the Throne. Hawk and Fisher ambled forward, taking their time and casually checking out who else had been invited to this special Court gathering. Sir Vivian and the warrior woman Cally were standing on one side of the Throne, surprisingly close together. In fact, Cally was being openly affectionate to Sir Vivian, who seemed embarrassed but quietly appreciative. As if that wasn’t astonishing enough, Jericho Lament and Duke Alric were standing on the other side of the Throne. Lament had given up his traditional long trench coat for more usual Court attire, and was in actual danger of appearing fashionable. Fisher barely nodded at him, amazed that Felicity let their father, the Duke, stand in such a favored position, and actually astounded that the Duke was standing comfortably erect without any of his usual metal and leather supports. He was even smiling slightly. Fisher couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the Rainbow had brought them back to the wrong world, and seriously considered pinching herself to see if she was awake.

  The Questor, Allen Chance, and the witch Tiffany were standing together before the Throne, and Hawk and Fisher stopped to chat with them. Chance and Tiffany had that special glow that comes from recent bedroom gymnastics, though Fisher had to quietly point this out to Hawk before they got there. He never noticed important things like that. The two couples greeted each other happily, indulged in a few rather obvious double entendres, and did their best to ignore the dog Chappie, who was currently lying on his back at Chance’s and Tiffany’s feet, all four paws in the air, tongue lolling out and showing everything he’d got.

  “A lot’s happened while you were gone,” said Chance.

  “So I see,” murmured Hawk, and Tiffany blushed.

  “What’s happened with the Duke?” asked Fisher. “Where’s that cage he usually lurches around in? Where are his guards? And he’s smiling, dammit. Who died?”

  “He gave up the Candlemass Charm to save Felicity’s life,” said Chance.

  “The Duke did?” Fisher had a hard job keeping her voice down.

  “It was very brave of him,” Tiffany said firmly. “Once the Charm was gone, I was able to cure him. He’s almost been in a good mood since.”

  “You pinch me,” Fisher said to Hawk. “Better yet, slap me round the head. I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  “You’d better move on,” said Chance. “The Queen’s been waiting for you very patiently, but … well, she is the Queen.”

  “Hell with that,” said Hawk. “Sir Robert? Is that you?”

  He and Fisher moved over to join Sir Robert Hawke and Ennis Page, standing grinning together, just a little apart from everyone else. Hawk clasped them both by the hand, smiling so hard, his cheeks hurt.

  “What the hell happened to you two? You look twenty years younger!”

  “The Magus did it,” said Sir Robert. “Not exactly out of the goodness of his heart, but … We both feel like ourselves again. Strong and sharp and ready to cause trouble in all directions. You know, Lament and the Seneschal have been telling your recent exploits all over the Castle, and singing your praises in quite embarrassing detail. You two are the heroes of the moment. Pretty much what I expected, really. I always knew you’d save us all.”

  Hawk gave him a sharp look, and turned to Ennis Page. “You’re looking much improved from when I last saw you. Do you remember—”

  “I remember everything,” said Page. “You were kind and honorable to an old comrade, not that I would have expected anything less from you.”

  “Hold everything,” said Fisher. “What are they doing here?”

  Not too far away, in a little space all their own, stood the Shaman and his Creature. The Shaman stood hunched over, looking and smelling as foul as ever, glaring at everyone from behind his mask of woad and clay. As always he was fuming with barely suppressed anger, but surprisingly he wouldn’t meet Hawk’s or Fisher’s eyes. The Creature stuck close to him, crouched on all fours, showing nasty yellow fangs as he snarled at everyone.

  “The Queen said she wanted them here, so here they are,” said Sir Robert distastefully. “I just know he’s got fleas. And God knows what the Creature’s got. If you want to know why we’re all here, well, a lot’s happened in your absence, and the word is the Queen has a lot she wants to say about it all.”

  “Anyone else expected?” asked Fisher.

  “Just the one,” said Sir Robert. “And the Seneschal’s never been on time for anything in his life. I think he does it on purpose, just to annoy people.”

  “Yeah,” said Fisher. “That sounds like him. Though he has mellowed. I haven’t seen him spit at anyone since I got here.”

  The double doors flew open and the Seneschal bustled in. He nodded briskly to everyone, sneered at the Shaman, and hurried forward to bow before the Throne. He was carrying a long sword in an old scabbard, which rather baffled Fisher. Everyone knew the Seneschal wasn’t allowed weapons. Not since the unfortunate incident with the insolent visiting dignitary and the blunt end of a pike. Fisher watched with interest as the Seneschal had a quiet word with the Queen, glanced back at Hawk and Fisher, and then moved over to stand with Lament and the Duke.

  “All right,” said Hawk. “That is the last straw. We leave you lot alone for ten minutes, and the whole world goes through changes. Has someone been putting something in your coffee? What the hell did happen in our absence that could bring so many disaffected people together in one place without trying to kill one another? Don’t tell me sanity’s broken out at last.”

  “Well, to start with, we put down a rebellion against the Queen,” said Chance as he and Tiffany and a reluctant Chappie came over to join them. “The Duke started it, but was in turn betrayed, and risked his life to save the Queen, so everything’s all sweetness and light in that department now. Supposedly. Anyway, the Duke and his armies are no longer a threat to the Kingdom.”

  Fisher sniffed dubiously. “I’ll believe that when I see it. The Starlight Duke never gave a damn for anyone but himself and his own ambitions.”

  “No, really,” said Tiffany, radiating sincerity as only she could. “I’ve offered to set up some conciliation meetings, where they could discuss abandonment issues and the like, and they almost said they’d think about it.”

  “Yeah,” growled Chappie, scratching his ear fiercely as though determined to dig something interesting out of it. “There’s so much harmony and good will in the air these days I may puke. It’s not natural. Still, at least these two idiots finally got it together. I was beginning to think I’d have to draw pictures. They’re inseparable now, of course, so I’ve had to adopt her as well as him. I always wanted to raise some puppies.”

  “We don’t plan
on having any children just yet,” Tiffany protested, blushing again.

  “You were trying hard enough last night,” said the dog. “Though if you do want children, one of those things you were doing won’t—”

  “Shut up, Chappie,” interrupted Chance. The dog sniggered and started licking his balls. Everyone looked away quickly. Chance fixed his gaze on Hawk. “Lament’s been saying the returned Cathedral is no longer a threat to anyone. Is that right?”

  “I would like to hear the answer to that one personally,” Queen Felicity said loudly. “If you could spare the time, Captains Hawk and Fisher …”

  Hawk and Fisher approached the Throne, and nodded briefly to everyone there. They didn’t bow to Felicity, but no one said anything. “The Cathedral is back to normal,” said Hawk. “Back to what it was always intended to be, a beacon of light in a dark world. That’s the good news. The bad news is that magic is going out of the world. Permanently. It won’t happen overnight, the Magus said it could take centuries. But it does mean the Rift is fundamentally unstable. So make the most of it while you’ve got it.”

  “You mean we could be cut off from the south again?” asked Felicity, taking a large gulp from her glass. “Sweet Jesus, that’s all we need. There’d be riots. I think I’d join them. I couldn’t live without my morning coffee anymore.”

  “As magic goes out of the world, the Deadlands will settle down, too,” said Hawk. “If I were you, I’d start planning trade routes and new territory acquisitions.”

  The Queen thought about that, and then smiled suddenly. “If the Deadlands were to become habitable again, we could be on the verge of the biggest land rush in history. And if we could grab and control most of it, we wouldn’t need the Rift anymore!”