Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood)

by Simon R. Green

  “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 armor. The burnished steel gleamed coldly under the lanternlight, 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 so 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. The 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 trembling hands. After all these years, despite everything I’ve achieved 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 back into the waiting crowd. A memory came to Rupert, of the two of them standing together on a hill, looking down over the Coppertown pit. Of the Champion telling him how he’d 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 across her as she realized 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.

  The crowd suddenly broke apart before her, and Julia stumbled to a halt as King John stepped out of the crowd to block her path. Harald stood at the King’s side, carrying a huge sheathed longsword in his arms as though it was both infinitely precious and utterly repellent. Julia eyed Harald and the King warily as they bowed to her. They were being polite and formal, which could only mean that they were up to something. She watched their faces change as they realized she was no longer wearing formal Court robes, and smiled politely at them, daring them to say anything. She’d had to search half the Castle laundry to find the sensible, hard-wearing clothes she’d worn in the Forest during her time with Rupert, but it had been worth it. For the first time in months, she actually felt comfortable.

  Besides; she couldn’t use a sword properly while wearing formal robes.

  “Princess Julia,” said the King slowly, “Your garments are hardly suitable for a Lady of the Court.”

  “Probably not,” said Julia. “But they’re quite suitable for a battle. If you think I’m going out to fight demons wearing high heels and a long flowing gown, you’re crazy. Now, did you have something in particular you wanted to say to me, or were you just indulging in a little fashion criticism?”

  “We have something for you,” said Harald.

  “Oh yes?” said Julia suspiciously. “And what might that be?”

  “A sword,” said Harald. “It’s called Wolfsbane.”

  He held out to her the long silver scabbard he was carrying, and Julia looked at it for a long moment before finally taking it from him. Despite its seven feet and more in length, the sword seemed practically weightless in her hands. The scabbard was covered in ancient, deeply etched runes that teased her eyes with hints of meaning. I don’t like this sword, thought Julia suddenly. It feels … unhealthy. She started to hand the sword back to Harald, and then stopped as she realized both he and King John were wearing similar swords strapped to their backs. The long leather-bound hilts peered over their shoulders like watchful eyes. And that was when Julia remembered the name Wolfsbane.

  “This is one of the Infernal Devices,” she said slowly. “One of the most powerful and evil swords ever created. And you expect me to use this?”

  “They’re our only hope now,” said the King. “We need their power.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Julia suspiciously, “Why are you offering me this sword, and not Rupert?”

  “He didn’t want it,” said Harald.

  “Why not?”

  Harald smiled slightly. “Perhaps he was afraid of its power.”

  “Perhaps,” said Julia, “he had reason to be.”

&n

bsp; The King shifted uncomfortably as Julia turned her searching gaze on him. “We did offer him the blade, Julia, but he refused to take it. He said … he said he didn’t trust magic swords anymore. Do you understand what he meant by that?”

  Julia frowned, and worried her lower lip between her teeth. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t.” She hefted Wolfsbane in her hand, and made as though to draw it. Harald and the King both sucked in a sudden breath, and stepped back a pace.

  “I wouldn’t,” said King John quickly. “You might unleash the sword’s attribute.”

  Julia studied the sheathed sword, and frowned thoughtfully. “Three Infernal Devices, each with a different attribute. I remember the stories my father told me, when I was very young. Of three magic swords, and the evil and destruction they caused before they could be brought under control. Rockbreaker. Flarebright. Wolfsbane. I never thought I’d hold a legend in my hand. What is Wolfsbane’s attribute? What does it do?”

  “We’re not actually sure,” said the King. “It’s been so long since anyone dared draw any of the blades …”

  “Great,” said Julia. “Just great. All right; what do you know about the Infernal Devices?”

  “They like blood,” said Harald quietly. “And they love to kill.”

  Julia looked at him sharply. There had been something in Harald’s voice … something that might have been fear, or loathing …

  “But why me?” she said suddenly. “All right, Rupert wouldn’t take the sword, but why does it have to be me? Why not the Champion, or the Astrologer, or …”

  “You’re of Royal blood,” said the King.

  Julia smiled wryly. “Of course. A sword like this could make any man a King; and there’s no one else you can trust with that kind of power.”

  “That’s right,” said the King. “No one, but you.”

  “And I’ll bet that sticks in your craw something fierce,” said Julia. “A woman with a sword, what is the world coming to? All right; I’ll use Wolfsbane. But only if I have to. I don’t trust magic swords, either.”

  She slung the scabbarded sword over her left shoulder, and buckled it securely into place. Harald moved forward as though to help, but stopped short when Julia fixed him with a sardonic eye.

  “Have either of you seen Rupert around?” she asked, her voice carefully casual.

  “I’ve no doubt he’s here somewhere,” said the King. “But I haven’t seen him since Darius died.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Julia. “I heard about that. Good to know Darius finally got what was coming to him.”

  “Quite,” said Harald. “I haven’t seen Rupert at all, but then, he hasn’t had much to say to me since I told him he was still going to be best man at your wedding to me.”

  Julia looked at him, and then at the King. “You can’t leave him alone, can you? Even now, you can’t leave him any peace, or hope of peace. You’re beneath contempt, both of you. Get out of my sight.”

  “Julia …” said the King.

  “Get away from me, damn your eyes!”

  King John bowed stiffly to her, and turned and walked away. Harald opened his mouth to say something. Julia rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. Harald smiled politely, and followed his father into the crowd. Julia watched him go, and was surprised to find herself shaking with the strength of her emotions. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the freezing courtyard air, and slowly some of her calm came back to her. Rupert, my dear … what are we going to do? She shook her head slowly, and then started as a long, leather-wrapped swordhilt suddenly appeared at the corner of her eye. Julia scowled, and looked away. Wolfsbane was a solid, uncomfortable presence at her back, for all its lightness, and she wasn’t at all sure she’d done the right thing in accepting it. She felt happier with the blade she knew, hanging in its usual place at her left hip; the sword Rupert had given her, long ago, in a Darkwood clearing when all had seemed lost …

  Julia looked around the packed, milling courtyard. Wherever you are, Rupert; watch your back. She sighed tiredly, once, and then strode off into the crowd, heading for where her troop of women were waiting for her. And the Infernal Device on her back seemed to grow a little heavier with every step.

  Rupert stood in the shadows of the stable doors, watching Julia drill her troop of women. Swords and spears and hand-axes gleamed in the torchlight as the women stamped and lunged, their movements still somehow graceful despite the cumbersome chain mail they all wore. Julia strode back and forth before them, stopping briefly to smile and encourage, or demonstrate a difficult cut or parry. As she moved through the flickering, uncertain light, sword in hand, her tall, lithe form seemed like that of some ancient warrior goddess, teaching the arts of war to her worshippers.

  She was dressed as she had been when Rupert first knew her, and he wasn’t sure why that hurt him as much as it did. With her old clothes, and her long, blonde hair tied back in two simple, functional braids, she was like a bitter accusing memory of the time they’d had together, before he’d brought her back to Forest Castle. He’d been so happy, then.

  “I wish you’d go and talk to her,” said the unicorn. “You’re getting on my nerves, standing there all frowning and broody.”

  “There’s nothing left to say,” said Rupert quietly. “She’s marrying Harald, of her own free will.”

  “Yeah,” said the unicorn. “And demons are vegetarians. You’re too hard on the girl, Rupert. If she’s marrying Harald, it’s only because the Court pressured her into it. It’s not as if she had any choice in the matter, now is it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rupert tiredly. “I don’t know anything any more.”

  “Buck up,” said the unicorn gruffly. “We’ll be going out into the dark soon. Think of all the fun you can have, taking out your troubles on the demons. They won’t know what’s hit them.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Out in the courtyard, Julia turned suddenly to face the stables, and Rupert backed quickly away from the doors before she could see him. He didn’t know why he was so angry. It was her life, and she had a right to live it as she chose. He hadn’t even known her long. They’d spent a few months together, and then he’d had to leave her at the Castle while he went off in search of the Dark Tower. After so many months apart, with every reason to suppose him dead, it was only to be expected that Julia would turn to somebody else. And Harald always was a charming bastard. Their marriage had been all but inevitable.

  That’s as may be, thought Rupert grimly. But I’m still not going to be the bloody best man!

  He turned his back on the open stable doors and tugged irritably at his new chain mail. The vest had obviously been fashioned for someone a few inches taller and a great deal broader than him, and in the few places where it did fit, it chaffed him unmercifully. The arms were too long, the leggings were baggy, and the waistline was a joke. And to top it all, his hood kept falling forward over his eyes. Rupert stomped back and forth between the stalls, trying to get the feel of the armor, but soon gave up in disgust. It could take weeks to get a new suit of chain mail fitting just right, and he didn’t have weeks. It would just have to do as it was.

  “Typical,” he said finally.

  “What is?” asked the unicorn.

  “Well, here I am, all dressed up in bright new armor, about to go back into the dark and fight evil, and all I can think of is how much I need to visit the privy!”

  The unicorn sniggered unfeelingly. “It’s just nerves, lad. Think about something else.”

  “It’s all right for you. You can take a piss any time you feel like it. I have to unbuckle half my damn armor first.”

  “Don’t worry,” said the unicorn. “Once we get outside the gates, one good look at the demon horde will undoubtedly scare the piss right out of you.”

  “You’re a great help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Ah, to hell with it,” said Rupert suddenly, and before the unicorn’s startled gaze, he began unbuckling his chain mail.