Once In a Blue Moon

by Simon R. Green

  What light there was seemed to concentrate itself around the group now, so they could always see the surrounding weapons clearly, while the shadows held dominion ahead and behind. As though they were moving forward in a travelling pool of light. Bertram Pettydew took it all for granted, just pottering along, peering this way and that, and keeping up a stream of informative but not especially useful chatter. To which he clearly didn’t require an answer, or even a response. He smiled and waved cheerfully at the rows and rows of weapons on display, all the swords and axes, maces and morning stars . . . and sometimes he paused to pat or caress some old weapon kept readily to hand, as though they were old pets or companions he was fond of. Hawk looked thoughtfully this way and that, but kept his thoughts to himself, and if he was seeing things he recognised, he kept that to himself too. Gillian stared around her, openly fascinated.

  “I was only ever here the once,” she said. “A long time ago. Before your time, Richard.”

  “You had a right to be here,” Richard said stiffly. “As Rupert and Julia’s daughter.”

  He shot a pointed look at Hawk, who ignored it, following Bertram through the Armoury and encouraging him to keep up a brisk pace. The others had to hurry after them, to Richard’s growing resentment. Bertram did try to slow things down, by wanting to explain all the stories and histories attached to the old weapons they were passing, but Hawk had no time for the merely interesting and historical. Until suddenly he slammed to a halt and stared coldly at an empty niche in the wall. The others stopped too and gathered around him. Richard glared into the niche. There was, quite definitely, nothing there.

  “Well?” said the Prince, struggling to hold on to his temper. “What are we supposed to be looking at? What is so special or important about an empty space?”

  “Hush,” said Gillian. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “Yes . . . ,” said Catherine. “It’s cold here. Cold, like the early hours of the morning, when the rivers of the soul run deep. I don’t like it, Richard.”

  Richard nodded slowly. He could feel it too, and he didn’t like it either. It was as though the empty space was looking back at them, with bad intent.

  “Of course,” he said slowly, to Hawk. “It’s been a while since I was here. I’d forgotten about . . . this. How did you know . . . ?”

  “This is where the three Infernal Devices used to stand,” said Hawk, his voice full of a cold distaste. “Three of the most powerful, dangerous, and evil magical swords ever fashioned. Rockbreaker. Flarebright. Wulfsbane.”

  They all looked around them. There was a new tension in the air, a sense of stirring, in the shadows. As though just the naming of those ancient swords had disturbed . . . something.

  “Yes,” said Bertram respectfully. “This is where they stood, waiting to be called forth. Fancy you knowing that, sir Hawk. Sir Jasper recognised this space right away, as well. Of course, he was dead. You can’t hide much from the dead.”

  Hawk stared at the empty niche in the old stone wall, held by the presence of the three terrible swords that had stood there so long ago. He hadn’t been here when his father, King John, had called them forth to fight in his war. The Demon War.

  “Famous, these old swords were,” Bertram said happily. “Or perhaps more properly, infamous. Stood there for centuries, they did. Until King John put them to use, against the Demon Prince. Prince Rupert wielded Wulfsbane, and . . .”

  “No, he didn’t,” Hawk said sharply. “That was Julia. King John had Rockbreaker. And Harald wielded Flarebright. Rupert could have wielded one of the Infernal Devices. King John wanted him to. But he chose not to. He didn’t trust them. The Infernal Devices were alive, you see, in their own way, sentient and aware. They wanted to be used, to kill and destroy, and they seduced the minds of those who carried them.”

  Richard stared at Hawk for a long moment. “We . . . we have to move on. We need weapons that are still here.”

  Hawk nodded, and turned his face away from the empty niche. He nodded to Bertram, who quickly continued on.

  Richard was next to bring the party to a sudden halt. Standing before an old broadsword hanging on the wall, beneath a simple brass plaque bearing the sword’s name. Lawgiver. A massive, ill-used blade, wielded by seven Forest Kings in succession, until the long steel blade grew too battered and notched to hold a proper edge. Everyone in the Forest Land knew its name.

  “Nothing actually magical or legendary about this sword, your highness,” said Bertram. “Lot of history attached, from all the important battles it saw service in; but nothing important or significant enough to make it a part of legend. Just a good working blade, an efficient killing tool. Or at least, it was. I mean, look at the state of the thing now. I wouldn’t use it for cutting up fish.”

  “It’s still Lawgiver,” Richard said sternly. “A name my people know. I can have a new edge put on it. Lawgiver’s reputation is just what the people need, something to rally behind, to put a fire in their bellies.”

  Bertram Pettydew glared at him through his huge spectacles. “You can’t just come in here and take things! Your highness . . . These are exhibits from history!”

  “Not anymore,” said Richard. He took the sword down off the wall. He had to use both hands to move the old broadsword, and even so, the sheer weight of the long blade nearly threw him off balance. He stepped back, and swung the sword back and forth before him, till he got the hang of it. The blade’s balance was still good, even after all the damage done to it. In fact, Lawgiver seemed to settle into his hands as though it belonged there.

  “You know how to use a sword,” said Hawk.

  “I did my time, out on the border,” said Richard. He nodded sharply to Bertram Pettydew, who quickly stepped forward with an extremely battered leather scabbard, decorated with raised interlocking circles in the old pagan style. It was dull and dusty, and much in need of repair. Richard sheathed Lawgiver in the scabbard, slung it over his shoulder, and then adjusted the leather straps so the heavy blade hung comfortably down his back. He stood a little straighter under the weight of the blade, heavy with so much Forest history and the deeds of seven Kings. He smiled slightly. Wouldn’t be too hard to find a decent blacksmith to put an edge back. Someone he trusted to do a good job. And then . . . He realised the others were staring at him, and he nodded sharply to Bertram.

  “Well, Armourer, do you have anything else like this? A weapon without magic but steeped in history?”

  Bertram nodded quickly. “Of course, your highness. This way, your highness. Yes. Lots of history here. Lots and lots.”

  Not much farther in, the Armourer stopped them before a slender silver blade that hung on the wall all on its own, gleaming brightly. The brass plaque below said simply Traitor.

  “Of course,” said Richard. “I remember this. The sword wielded by the infamous Starlight Duke when he raised it in rebellion against the Forest, to break off his own section of the Land and call it Hillsdown.”

  “That’s not quite how they tell the story, in those parts of the Forest that used to be Hillsdown,” murmured Bertram. “Even after the great rejoining, after our King Stephen married their Queen Felicity and we all agreed to be chums again.”

  “Of course,” said Richard. “No, you’re right. We can’t use this. The sword’s history would make it divisive. Not a good thing during a war.”

  Bertram peered about him, at all the long rows of weapons hanging on the walls, and shrugged. “There are thousands and thousands of perfectly good weapons here, your highness. You name it, and we’ve got it somewhere. Even I don’t know exactly how many . . . I keep meaning to do an inventory, but there’s always something happening to distract me. And I’m sure some of them move around when I’m not looking . . .”

  Richard stared down the long, shadowy hall. They’d been walking for some time, but the end didn’t seem any closer. “I never knew the Armoury was this big . . .”

  “Oh, it wasn’t, before today,” said the Armourer. “I know th
is place inside out, and upside down, and I am here to tell you I never saw it stretch away this far before. It’s as though all the old lost and forgotten and forbidden weapons are waking up and taking their place in the world again. Space inside the Armoury has to expand, to fit in all the weapons determined to be used . . .”

  “Where is the Rainbow Sword?” said Hawk.

  Bertram looked at him. “And which sword might that be, sir Hawk?”

  Hawk glared at the Armourer. “The Rainbow Sword! The sword Prince Rupert used to call down the Rainbow, in the sick heart of the Darkwood, to defeat and banish the Demon Prince at the end of the Demon War! That Rainbow Sword!”

  “I’m sorry, sir Hawk,” said the Armourer, and he certainly sounded like he meant it, “but I really don’t recognise the sword you’re talking about.”

  But Prince Richard did. He caught Hawk’s eye, and indicated with a quick jerk of his head that he thought the two of them should talk privately. Hawk nodded, and he and Richard moved off into the shadows, out of earshot of the others. Catherine started to go after them, just on general principles, but Gillian grabbed her by an arm and held her back. Catherine immediately pulled her arm free but stayed where she was.

  “The Rainbow Sword isn’t part of official history,” Richard said harshly to Hawk. “It’s a secret part of my family’s history, passed down only through the Royal line, by word of mouth. So how do you know about it? I want the truth from you now, Hawk, or whoever you really are. Who are you? How can you know things that only members of Forest Royalty are allowed to know?”

  Hawk smiled at him. “Don’t you know, Richard? Haven’t you worked it out yet? I’ve given you enough clues. Think. Who would I have to be, to know the things I know, and do the things I do?”

  And just like that, Richard understood. The truth hit him like a blow to the head. His face went pale and his eyes widened. It all came together at once. Richard tried to say something but couldn’t get the words out. He started to kneel to Hawk, but Hawk wouldn’t let him. Instead, he took Richard by the arms, pulled him forward, and hugged him. Richard hugged him back. Not just because he finally recognised a living legend, but because family is always family.

  Catherine couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She turned to Gillian. “Do you know what’s going on there?”

  “Maybe,” said Gillian.

  “Talk to me! I’m a Princess!” said Catherine.

  “And I run a Brotherhood of Steel Sorting House,” said Gillian. “I win.”

  “I can’t believe it’s really you!” said Richard, as the two men finally let go of each other and stood back. Richard didn’t even try to hide the awe and shock and hero worship running through him. “Prince Rupert . . . come back to us, in the hour of our greatest need! I mean, yes, I know you came back before, to investigate Grandfather Harald’s death, but . . . Oh my God! If you’re Hawk, then Fisher . . . She’s Princess Julia, isn’t she? Oh my God! Only the Royal family know that was you two, before, and some of us never really believed it, but . . . I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re back!”

  “No one else needs to know,” said Hawk.

  Richard studied Hawk carefully. “You don’t look a bit like your official portrait.”

  “I know,” said Hawk. “It’s a travesty. I may sue.”

  “Hold everything,” said Richard. “You must be over a hundred years old now.”

  “Well over,” said Hawk. “And some mornings I feel every day of it. I need industrial-strength coffee just to work up the energy to cough up half a lung.”

  “But . . . how?”

  “Wild Magic,” said Hawk. “And if you’re wise, you’ll settle for that.”

  “Who else knows?” said Richard. “No! Wait a minute! Your dog . . . that’s the real Chappie, isn’t it? I mean, the original! Not just a descendant . . .”

  “Do you need to breathe into a paper bag for a while?” said Hawk.

  “No! No, I’m fine . . . It’s not easy, you know, suddenly realising you’re surrounded by living legends. I wish my father were well enough to meet you. He’d get such a thrill out of it. He’s the one who told me all the old stories about you when I was a child.”

  Hawk grinned. “Never take songs and legends too seriously. That’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

  “Oh my God!” Richard went all wide-eyed again. “Jack and Gillian are your children! And Raven and Mercy are your grandchildren! Damn . . .” Richard shot a quick look back at Gillian, still standing with Catherine. “She looks so much older than you . . . Still, I feel a whole lot better knowing you’ve come home again. An entire lineage of heroes, returned to save us all!” He stopped suddenly. “Ah . . . This is going to complicate the hell out of the Royal line of succession.”

  “No it isn’t,” Hawk said firmly. “We’re not interested. Now, Richard, no one else is to know who Fisher and I really are. I mean it. Even if I’m not very good at hiding it, the fact remains that no one else needs to know. Understand?”

  “Frankly, no!” said Richard. “Why can’t we tell everyone? Your return would mean so much to the Forest people! It would give them new heart, new confidence, knowing that Prince Rupert and Princess Julia of history and legend had returned to lead them into battle and save us all again!”

  “That’s why we can’t reveal ourselves,” Hawk said patiently. “Our arrival now would be seen as . . . significant. People would start talking about Fate, and Destiny. They’d expect us to save them. But this is your time, and your war, Richard. You have to inspire your people and lead them to victory. And sit on the throne afterwards. I didn’t want the throne before and I don’t want it now. That’s why I ran away, all those years ago. I’ll fight for the Forest, but I won’t rule it. And we’re not the only ones who’ve returned. The Demon Prince is involved in everything that’s happening here.”

  Richard’s face went pale again. “Of course . . . If you’re back, then he . . . Oh my God. I never really thought of him as . . . real. He was just the monster in the stories, probably as much metaphor as flesh. But if you’re real, then of course he must be too. Damn. Damn . . . I feel sick. I can’t fight the Demon Prince, as well as Redhart’s armies!”

  “Keep your voice down!” Hawk said sharply. “And get ahold of yourself. Panicking doesn’t help. Trust me; I’ve tried it, and it never got me anywhere. The Demon Prince isn’t as strong as he once was, or he’d be running this war. Not King William. Though it might be a good idea to send some of your people into the Darkwood to see what’s going on there. Make sure it isn’t growing . . .”

  “I was in the Darkwood recently,” said Richard. “It was just as bad as all the stories said. I was only able to stand it for a few moments before it drove me out. But you fought whole battles in there! How did you cope?”

  “Wasn’t like I had much of a choice,” said Hawk.

  “The Darkwood is a more deserted place these days,” said Richard. “No demons. This war will be an entirely human affair.”

  “And you’re going to have to lead your people through it,” said Hawk. “Rufus is in no fit state to rule. You’re going to have to be King, and sooner than you thought. Is that going to be a problem? With Parliament, or other claimants?”

  “No,” said Richard. “I’m all there is.”

  “So, it’s your war, and your army,” said Hawk. “You lead, and they’ll follow. You know the Forest today far better than I do. I think Fisher and I are better off just being your secret weapons. You’d be surprised what we can do . . . And what King William doesn’t know about, he can’t prepare for.”

  “If you say so,” said Richard reluctantly.

  “Now,” said Hawk. “Where is my Rainbow Sword? Tell me you haven’t lost the bloody thing after all these years!”

  “Of course we haven’t!” said Richard, shocked at the very thought. “The family decided, long ago, that the best way to hide the Rainbow Sword was for no one to know it was ever here. Follow
me.”

  They went back and joined the others, and then Richard led the way deeper into the Armoury, with a far more confident step than he’d shown previously. Catherine moved in close beside him so they could talk quietly.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Family business,” said Richard. “Turns out, Hawk’s a relation.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “For the moment, yes. Sorry.”

  “I will make you pay for this later,” said Catherine.

  “Looking forward to it,” said Richard.

  Catherine smiled despite herself, and slipped her arm through his again. “Tell me something, Richard.”

  “If I can.”

  “I see all sorts of weapons hanging on these walls, but not a single shield anywhere. Why is that?”

  “Not really the Forest style of defence,” said Richard. “Our way has always been everything forward and trust in the Lord. Put everything you’ve got into your attack, and don’t stop till they’re all dead. We don’t hide behind things. Not our way.”

  “That’s either the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Catherine.

  Richard just shrugged. “We’re still here, and our enemies mostly aren’t.”

  He led the way past hundreds of other weapons, gleaming bright and brave on the walls to either side or shining with supernatural glamour inside display cases. Until finally he brought them to a far corner, and there it was, standing alone and unmarked. The Rainbow Sword. Hawk recognised it immediately. He stood and stared at the old sword while the others gathered around him.

  “I don’t understand,” said Bertram Pettydew. “It’s just a sword! I mean, look at it! Nothing special about it . . . In fact, it could do with a good clean.”

  There was no brass plaque for this sword, no name or display. Just a sword with a long blade, standing alone in its own quiet corner. Nothing to draw attention to it; just an ordinary, everyday sword with sharp edges and a good balance. Exactly as it had first appeared to Rupert, all those years ago, when he made the Rainbow Run through the long night of the Darkwood, to call down the Rainbow and win his prize. Not for him, but so he could save others. He smiled, remembering, and then reached out to take the sword.