Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels)

by Simon R. Green

  “All right, I’m here! What is so damned important that the communications sorcerer has to nearly blow my head off with his urgent message? For a moment I thought one of the family gods had finally found out where I lived. So, what is it? Are they rioting in the docks again? I don’t know where they get the energy …”

  “These two Guards are under the misapprehension that they’re leaving the city,” said Commander Glen tightly. “You are hereby authorized to use all necessary measures to prevent this, until we can beat some sense into their stubborn thick heads.”

  “You have got to be joking,” Mistique said immediately. “I’m not doing one damned thing that might get those two mad at me, and neither will any other sorcerer you’ve got working for you with two brain cells left to rub together.”

  “We’re leaving Headquarters now,” said Hawk. “If anyone gets in our way, we’ll mail them back to you. In a whole lot of small packages.”

  “Never mind the golden handshake or presentation clock,” said Fisher. “I always get emotional at those to-dos anyway.”

  They walked out of the office without waiting for any reply. The Constables who’d escorted them in had long since made themselves scarce. The more sensible ones were hiding until it was clearly all over, and safe for them to come out again. Hawk and Fisher strolled unhurriedly out of Guard Headquarters, and no one tried to stop them.

  “So,” said Fisher. “After all we’ve done for them, after all the times we saved this poxy city, we’re on our own now. No help, no backup; just you and me against everyone else.”

  “Best way,” said Hawk. “No complications or obligations, no clash of interests or conflicting loyalties. Just us, against everyone else.”

  “Us against the world,” said Fisher. “Just like old times, really.”

  They joined up with Chance and the dog Chappie at the deserted harborside by the docks, as arranged. It was very calm now, and very quiet; all the Guards and all the strikers were currently licking their wounds at home and plotting new strategies. The only things moving now were the zombies, working endlessly, efficiently, unloading the ships and carting off the goods with calm, eerie precision. Up above, carrion birds filled the sky, soaring silently, drawn to the dead but unable to reach them due to the harbor’s protective wards. Hawk and Fisher and Chance had had to tie their horses up well away from the docks before they could enter; just the smell of the working dead had been enough to make their mounts put back their ears and roll their eyes. Chappie’s eyes had narrowed into slits, and he stuck close to Chance as he padded along the harborside, muttering dangerously under his breath.

  “Tell me again this is a good idea,” said Chance, ignoring the dog with the ease of long practice. “Just the four of us, against people as well-connected as the DeWitts seem to be? They’re bound to have their own army of private guards.”

  “Most of those are dead and injured, after what happened here earlier,” said Hawk calmly. “The DeWitts have undoubtedly sent their agents out to the local hiring halls to arrange for reinforcements, but they won’t have had time to put together a real force yet. And they sure as hell won’t be expecting more trouble this soon. They think they’re safe from people like us.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” said Chance.

  “Then we walk right through them,” said Fisher. “David and Marcus have a lot to answer for, and nothing and no one is going to stand in our way.”

  Chance felt a sudden chill across the back of his neck. The cold determination in Hawk’s and Fisher’s faces and voices reminded him yet again that he was in the company of legends. At that moment, Chance thought he believed every word he’d ever heard about them.

  The cobbled yard before the DeWitts’ business building held only a dozen private guards, uncomfortable in their new garishly colored uniforms. They did their best to look menacing, but barely half of them were holding their weapons like they knew how to use them. Hawk and Fisher drew their weapons and broke into a loping run, howling their old Forest war cries as they closed rapidly on their foes. Chance drew his father’s great axe and hurried after them, Chappie already bounding happily ahead. The private guards broke and ran. Hawk and Fisher chased them into the building, kicking in the door as the last few guards tried desperately to slam it in their faces. The guards huddled together to make a last stand, basically because there was nowhere left to run, but when Chappie came charging in, the guards threw down their weapons and put their hands in the air. One of them actually burst into tears.

  “It’s not fair!” he said loudly. “No one told me I’d have to fight Hawk and Fisher and a bloody wolf!”

  “Right,” said the guard next to him. “They’re not paying us enough for this. Hell, there isn’t that much money in Haven.”

  “I am not a wolf!” snapped Chappie, showing all his teeth. The guards gave frightened little cries and huddled closer together. Chappie turned to glare at Chance as he finally caught up with them. “Tell them I am not a wolf, Chance!”

  “They’d be better off if you were,” said Chance, just a little breathlessly. The late Champion’s great double-headed axe had not been designed for running with. “I wasn’t expecting prisoners, Hawk. What do you want to do with them?”

  “We could feed them to Chappie,” said Hawk, and grinned unpleasantly as the guards did everything but try to climb into each other’s pockets. “Hell, I haven’t got time for this. Shoo, the lot of you. And don’t let me see you again, or I’ll have Fisher fillet you.”

  The private guards shuffled hesitantly past him, smiled weakly at Fisher, and then bolted the moment they reached the door. Chance looked around the deserted entrance hall. If reinforcements from inside the building had been coming, they would have been here by now, which suggested there were no more guards.

  “Which way now, Hawk?”

  “Beats me,” said Hawk. “We only ever saw the DeWitts on that bloody balcony. But the word is they’re still in here somewhere. So I guess we just kick in doors and generally terrorize people until we find them.”

  “Amateurs,” growled Chappie. “Take hours to search a building this size. Get out of the way and let me do it. Won’t take me long to sniff them down.” He raised his long head and sniffed ostentatiously at the air, then stopped short and frowned. “That’s odd. There’s something new in the building. Coming this way. It smells like … smoke, with sulphur in it.”

  And that was when the thick gray mists came rolling down the entrance hall, and enveloped all four of them in a multitude of thick, grasping strands, tenuous as cobwebs but strong as steel. Hawk and Fisher lashed out, but the gray strands evaded their weapons with serpentine ease, and lashed their arms to their sides in a moment. Chance did no better, and the gray strands all but cocooned Chappie rather than take any risks where he was concerned. Hawk and Fisher fought the enveloping strands until they contracted sharply, squeezing all the breath out of their lungs, and after that they just stood there, rocking unsteadily on their feet as they fought for air. Chance didn’t waste his strength. He murmured to Chappie to be still, and then stood quietly, waiting for some opportunity to present itself.

  The billowing mists parted to reveal a slender dark figure, and Hawk made a disgusted sound. “Mistique! Never trust a sorceress.”

  “How the hell did you get here ahead of us?” asked Fisher, scowling darkly. “And how did you know we’d strike here first?”

  “Well, honestly, darling, I am a sorceress,” said Mistique calmly. “I’m supposed to know things like that. Don’t bother struggling; the mists are as strong as I think they are, and I think they’re unbreakable. I really do apologize for this; it’s not as if I want to be here, but the Commanders threatened to fire me, and right now I need this job, so I can look after poor Mumsy and Daddy. So I’m afraid none of you are going anywhere. You’re going to stay safely wrapped up in my clever little mists until you come to your senses. Or until the Commanders find some way to pressure you into doing what they want. They’r
e really very good at doing things like that.”

  All the time the sorceress was talking, Hawk strained surreptitiously against the mists, but there wasn’t an inch of give in them. The High Warlock’s axe would probably cut right through the mystic strands, if he could just bring the weapon to bear, but his arm was trapped at his side. Hawk stopped struggling and thought about that for a moment. His arm was trapped, but his axe … Hawk grinned suddenly, and opened the fingers of his hand. The weight of the axe pulled it free from his grip, and it fell toward the floor, tearing through the gray mists it encountered along the way. Mistique shrieked, threw up her hands, and collapsed in a decorous heap on the floor. Immediately the enveloping mists began to unravel and dissipate, and within seconds the captives were free again, as they swept their arms vigorously about them. Chappie couldn’t resist biting at some of them, and grimaced at the taste. Chance looked dubiously at the unconscious sorceress.

  “Does she often faint like that?”

  “The mists are magical extensions of her own mind,” said Hawk. “When my axe cut through them, she felt it personally, and the magical feedback knocked her out. Just as well. She didn’t really want to fight us.”

  They strode past the unconscious sorceress, Chance dragging Chappie along when he wanted to stop and urinate on her, and headed down the hall, following Chappie’s keen nose as he sniffed out the DeWitts’ trail. Fisher leaned in close to Hawk.

  “That was a bit easy, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly. “Not to mention convenient?”

  “She was faking it,” Hawk murmured just as quietly. “Now she can report back to the Commanders that she did her best, but we were just too much for her.”

  “Why bother with the act?” said Fisher.

  “Because you can bet there are any number of unseen eyes watching us,” said Hawk. He grinned suddenly. “The next guy who tries my trick on Mistique and expects it to work is in for a very unpleasant surprise.”

  They followed Chappie’s nose along a convoluted trail, passing back and forth through the great building. Clerks at their desks watched with wide eyes as they passed, but made no attempt to raise the alarm. They stuck to their desks and kept their heads well down. Most of the rooms were empty. Chappie followed the trail out onto the balcony and back again, his nose very close to the floor now. He never once hesitated or looked confused, even when the trail finally ended at a broom closet. He snuffled noisily at the door, then stepped back to look meaningfully at Chance. Chance tried the door. It was locked, but one blow of his father’s axe took care of that. Chance pulled the door open, and there were Marcus and David DeWitt, huddled together like frightened children.

  “Surprise!” said Chappie, and the two brothers cried out in shock and fear.

  “Come out of there,” growled Hawk. “Don’t make me come in there and get you.”

  And then Marcus DeWitt thrust forward one pudgy hand, holding out the zombie control stone. It flared up brightly as Marcus spoke the activating word, and Chance suddenly fell back a step, clutching at his head. Chappie collapsed on the floor, whining and whimpering. Hawk and Fisher swayed on their feet as something rushed through their thoughts like an icy river, numbing their minds, but then it was gone, and they were themselves again. Hawk glared at Marcus.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “The control stone,” Marcus said breathlessly. “At this range, it can control any mind or body.”

  “Like hell,” said Fisher. “After all the Wild Magic we were exposed to, a simple geas like that is just water off a duck’s back to us. Now hand that thing over before I make up my mind which of your orifices I’m going to stuff it into.”

  David DeWitt laughed suddenly, a soft relieved sound. “You may not be affected, but your companions are. They belong to us now.”

  Hawk and Fisher looked around sharply. Chance was standing stiffly, his face and eyes dangerously blank. Chappie was back on his feet, and growling menacingly.

  “Kill them!” said Marcus DeWitt viciously. “Kill them both! Now!”

  Chance stalked forward, raising his axe. Chappie snarled once, and lurched toward Hawk and Fisher. They backed slowly away, not wanting to get too far from the DeWitts in case they tried to make a run for it.

  “I thought that stone only worked on zombies!” hissed Fisher.

  “Gaunt must have done a better job than he knew,” said Hawk.

  “So what do we do now? I don’t want to have to hurt Chance or the dog.”

  “I’ll hold them off, you get that stone away from Marcus. But make it quick—Chance and Chappie don’t look like they’re bluffing.”

  Fisher nodded, and the two of them lunged forward with the precision of long experience. Hawk’s axe swept up to parry Chance’s descending blade, and the two heavy axe-heads slammed together in a bright flurry of sparks. Chance’s eyes were vague as he fought the DeWitts’ will, but he swung his axe with practiced skill and commitment. The two axe-blades rang loudly in the still air of the narrow corridor as the two men struck fiercely against each other, neither of them yielding so much as an inch.

  Chappie came lurching forward, stiff-leggedly, snarling like a long roll of thunder. Fisher moved quickly to put the two fighting men between her and the dog, and then darted forward to grab at the control stone in Marcus’ hand. Her fingers closed around his, but he wouldn’t give it up, prying desperately at her fingers with his other hand. Chappie swung around the fighting men and stumbled toward Fisher. David DeWitt tried to hit her. She lashed out with the back of her hand holding her sword, and he cried out as he fell back into the closet, blood gushing down his face from a broken nose. Chappie was very close now, almost within lunging range. So Fisher threw all her strength against Marcus’ grip, and bent back his wrist until it broke. He shrieked briefly, and then again as she jerked the control stone out of his hand. Chance stopped fighting immediately, and stepped back, lowering his axe. Hawk watched him carefully.

  “Damn,” said Chance thickly, shaking his head. “Damn, that was unpleasant.”

  “Got that right,” growled Chappie, shaking his head, too. “Like having someone else behind my eyes, making me do things. I’m going to bite someone’s arse for this.”

  “Get in line,” said Hawk, finally lowering his axe. He looked at the DeWitt brothers, both of them sniveling together in their hiding place. They shrank back under his gaze. Fisher studied the control stone thoughtfully. Seen up close, it seemed too small and ordinary to have been the cause of so much woe. Hawk reached into the closet, grabbed Marcus by the shirt-front, and dragged him to his feet. He glared right into Marcus’ tear-filled eyes, their faces so close, they were almost touching. When Hawk finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

  “How many good men and women died on the harborside today because of you? How many were crippled, or beaten so hard, they’re pissing blood? How many families will starve because you took away all the jobs, replacing men with your stinking zombies? You’re worse than an assassin, DeWitt. You don’t just kill men; you kill lives and families and hope. Why should they die? Why shouldn’t you die, instead?”

  He raised his axe for a killing blow, and Marcus screamed as he saw no mercy in Hawk’s cold eye, no mercy at all.

  Fisher moved quickly in beside Hawk, and though she didn’t touch him, her voice was right there in his ear. “Don’t do it, Hawk. He deserves to die, they both do. But I’ve been thinking. If the DeWitts die now, the docks will be paralyzed for months while their heirs fight it out over the will. You know how this city loves a good lawsuit. No work for the dockers, no food for the city. If the DeWitts die now, at our hands, innocents will suffer.”

  “If the DeWitts live, innocents will suffer,” said Hawk, not lowering his axe.

  “There is another way,” Fisher said carefully. “Not as satisfying for us, but then, that’s not supposed to be why we’re doing this.”

  Hawk finally lowered his axe and looked at Fisher. “All right. I’m listening.�
�

  Chance studied them both as Fisher murmured in Hawk’s ear. For the first time he had seen true rage in Hawk’s scarred face, and the sheer violence of it had shocked him. He had no doubt at all that Hawk would have killed his helpless victim in cold blood if Fisher hadn’t intervened. This wasn’t the Prince Rupert of legend. This was someone else, someone far more terrifying, and Chance wasn’t at all sure how he felt about this new Hawk. This wasn’t the man he’d come south to find, to save the Forest Kingdom. And then he was surprised to see a slow smile spread across Hawk’s face as Fisher stopped murmuring and stepped back.

  Hawk took the control stone from Fisher and strode over to a nearby window. He gestured for the others to join him, and they did, including the DeWitts after an admonishing glare from Fisher and a scowl from Chappie. They all looked out the window and down below, the harborside and the docks spread out before them under the midday sun. It was getting uncomfortably warm now, but the zombies toiled unceasingly in silence, feeling none of the heat. Hawk held the glowing control stone aloft in his hand, spoke the activating word he’d heard Marcus use, and concentrated, sending out his will to the dead men working below. And as one they stopped what they were doing, abandoned their tasks, and turned away to walk slowly but purposefully into the sea. One by one, they vanished beneath the dark waters, disappearing in their hundreds like so many slow-moving lemmings, until there were no more zombies left anywhere in the docks.

  “They’ll keep walking across the bottom of the sea forever,” said Hawk. “Or at least until something eats them, or they fall apart. And just to make sure you two bastards don’t get your hands on any more …”

  He opened his hand and let the control stone drop onto the floor. And as the DeWitts watched disbelievingly, Hawk smashed the stone with one blow from his axe. The glowing crystal shattered into thousands of delicate slivers with a soft tinkling sound, and that was that. Marcus and David DeWitt moaned quietly. The only sorcerer who could have made them another was dead and gone. They had invested all that wealth and made all those plans for nothing.