Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels)

by Simon R. Green

  But within the walls that had served fifteen generations of Forest Kings was contained a much larger Castle, with a thousand rooms to every wing, banquet halls and ballrooms, servants’ and guards’ quarters, stables and kitchens and courtyards. And more than a few wonders and mysteries. Of which the most recent, or the oldest, depending on how you looked at it, was the Inverted Cathedral.

  Hawk looked at what had once been his home, and actually felt vaguely nostalgic for a while, until he remembered how they’d treated him the last time he’d come home, bringing with him Princess Julia, and a dragon he’d been supposed to kill.

  “You’re scowling again,” Chance said wearily. “All right, what is it this time? Don’t you have any good memories of your past life here?”

  “Not many,” said Hawk. “I don’t know what the legends say about my early days, but the truth is, I was despised, discounted, and unnoticed by just about everyone. I was the second son, never to be King. That was always Harald’s destiny. He always looked the hero’s part. I never did. So my father sent me out on a quest, ostensibly to prove my worth, to find and slay a dragon. In reality, I was supposed to take the hint and just keep on going, into exile, and thus remove a potential threat to Harald’s succession. Only I was too honorable, or too dumb, to see that. So I made my way through the Tanglewood and the Darkwood, climbed Dragonslair Mountain, and found my dragon. And Princess Julia. I befriended them both, and brought them back home with me.

  “I think it fair to say absolutely no one was pleased about that. Harald actually challenged me to a supposedly friendly duel, so he could knock me about in front of an audience, and put me firmly back in my place. As he’d done so many times before. But I’d learned a lot in my time away, and I cut him to ribbons, right there in front of everyone. That felt so good until the Champion did the same thing to me. He did everything but carve his initials on me, to remind me of my proper place. He did so enjoy proving he was still the best. You look shocked, Chance.”

  “I can’t believe they never respected you, your … Hawk. Were you always treated like that?”

  “Pretty much,” answered Hawk.

  “They behaved vilely toward him,” said Fisher. “They never appreciated him, even though he was always the best of his family.”

  “Well, you’ll find much has changed here since then,” said Chance. “Your memory is revered now. And yours, Fisher.”

  “Some things never change,” said Hawk. “I’ll probably still have to kick arse and generally act up to get anything done. I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too,” said Fisher.

  They grinned at each other, remembering happy times, and Chance stirred uncomfortably in his saddle. Every now and again he wondered if he was doing the right thing in bringing back Hawk and Fisher to a Court that already had more than its fair share of troubles. He decided it was time for another change of subject.

  “The Castle interior is probably much as you remember it. Rooms and locations still change back and forth, according to their own impenetrable logic, and directions still vary according to which day it is when you ask. Though it must be said those rooms nearest the Inverted Cathedral tend to change places more rapidly than most. Perhaps because they’re afraid to stay close to it for any length of time. The Seneschal is still the only one who knows where everything is at any given time. He and his staff are still on top of things. Mostly.”

  “How is the old stick?” said Fisher warmly. “He was always a game old bird. He never approved of me, but no one did back then. Is he still a major pain in the arse?”

  “He’s mellowed somewhat. Marriage and children, coming late in life, seem to have settled him down. As long as you catch him on a good day.”

  “How does he feel about the Inverted Cathedral?” Hawk asked.

  “Officially, he’s still studying it. Unofficially, it scares the crap out of him, just like everyone else. It’s the one place in the Castle he’s never been, and he has stated loudly, for the record, several times, that wild horses couldn’t drag him inside the unnatural construction. But he’s still the first one to listen whenever the scholars in the libraries turn up some new fact or story or rumor about the Inverted Cathedral’s history.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Seneschal I remember,” said Fisher, frowning. “I was there when he led an expedition to rediscover the missing South Wing. I never saw him frightened of anything, even when we ran into a bunch of demons. The Seneschal I knew never backed down from anything.”

  “The Inverted Cathedral is different,” said Chance. “Where once it rose up into the heavens, now it plunges down into the depths.”

  “I know, you told us,” said Fisher. “So what? I was there when the Seneschal came across an upside down Tower, during our search for the South Wing. It was weird as hell, but he was the first one through the door.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Chance. “No one knows how deep the Cathedral goes now. Some say it goes all the way down to Hell.”

  There was a pause as Hawk and Fisher considered this. “We saw the Demon Prince sitting on a rotten throne in the heart of the Darkwood,” Hawk said finally. “I think we’ve already seen everything Hell has to offer.”

  “Sure,” agreed Fisher. “And we lived in Haven for ten years. There’s not much that throws us anymore.”

  They rode back into the clearing, and no one challenged them. The quiet of the great man-made clearing, after so long among the living noise of the woods, was almost threatening. The Castle grew steadily larger and more imposing as they approached it. Hawk found his right hand had dropped to his axe without him even noticing. Fisher was scowling so hard, it must have hurt her forehead. Even Chance looked troubled, though Hawk couldn’t help thinking that was probably more due to him and Fisher than to the Castle.

  They crossed the clearing without incident and came to the moat. It looked pretty much as disgusting as Hawk remembered it. Dark shapes swam slowly through the murky waters, half hidden by the layers of shifting scum on the surface. Hawk stopped his horse just before the lowered drawbridge, and stared down into the moat. Fisher stopped beside him.

  “Chance,” Hawk said slowly, “is the moat monster still in there, guarding the Castle?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Chance, reining in his horse. “Him and his offspring.”

  Hawk and Fisher looked at him sharply. “Offspring?” asked Fisher. “What the hell did he mate with?”

  “No one’s ever really liked to ask,” said Chance.

  They rode on across the drawbridge, the heavy wood hardly shaking under the weight of the horses and riders and Chappie. Dark things with improbable shapes popped their heads up through the scum of the water to take a look at the new arrivals, but were always gone again before Hawk and Fisher could get a good look at them. They seemed mostly interested in Chappie, who ignored them all with cutting indifference.

  They rode on through the towering stone Keep and the open gatehouse, and on into the Castle’s main courtyard. The waiting crowd assembled there could no longer contain themselves. They burst out into cheers and shouting and wild cries of welcome, all but drowning out the brass band’s official welcoming fanfare. Hawk’s horse immediately tried to turn and bolt, and for a while he was too busy struggling to control his horse to understand what was happening. He actually had his axe half drawn before he realized the huge crowd was actually pleased to see him. Though to be honest, they seemed to be mostly cheering the return of the King’s Questor, Allen Chance. He smiled and waved graciously about him, as though perfectly used to such treatment, and Hawk supposed he was. The Questor was a real hero.

  The courtyard was packed wall to wall with people jumping up and down and craning their necks for a better view of the new arrivals. A large professionally painted banner high up on the far wall blazed the words “Welcome home! Prince Rupert and Princess Julia! Saviors of the Forest Land!!!” The brass band was oom-pahing through the national anthem with more enthusiasm
than skill, but no one was paying any attention. Apparently, garbled word of the Questor’s return had preceded him, and the crowd had gathered to celebrate the successful completion of his mission. Two young pages in full ceremonial uniforms stood proudly at attention on a raised dais below the welcome banner, holding the two Royal crowns of the Forest Kingdom on purple velvet cushions.

  But already the roar of the crowd was beginning to die away as the people looked eagerly for the legendary figures of Prince Rupert and Princess Julia, and didn’t see them. The Questor they knew, and his dog, but the two shabby figures with him looked nothing like the official portraits of Rupert and Julia. So the crowd looked beyond Hawk and Fisher, hoping to see someone else, someone more impressive, behind them, and when it became clear that there was no one else, the crowd’s noise died quickly away in confusion. The brass band was the last to get the message, and carried on playing as Chance and Hawk and Fisher rode their horses slowly through the middle of the crowd. One by one the instruments fell silent as the musicians realized something was wrong, and the three riders and Chappie crossed the last of the distance in stony silence.

  Chance reined in his horse at the foot of the great stone stairway leading up to the main door, and dismounted. Hawk and Fisher swung down to join him, in a silence so complete, their every movement could be heard. They kept their hands near their weapons. They knew how quickly the crowd’s mood could change, especially if it’s just been denied something it really wants. Chance was doing his best to look undisturbed, but Chappie was sticking close to him, glaring at the crowd as though daring them to start something. Hawk caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and spun around sharply as the main door swung open, and a familiar face appeared, followed by a lot of guards. Hawk and Fisher moved to stand close together as Sir Vivian Hellstrom, High Commander of the Castle Guard, strode down the steps to face them.

  Sir Vivian’s gaunt, raw-boned face was so pale as to be almost colorless, topped with a thick mane of silver-gray hair. There was a calm and studied stillness to his face that suggested strength and determination, but his eyes gave him away. They were hard and unyielding; fanatic’s eyes. He was lean and wiry rather than muscular, but there was a deadly grace to his few economical movements. Once he’d been Lord Vivian, and a major player in Castle society, but Harald, then Prince Harald, had revealed Vivian’s plot in a conspiracy against King John, and so Vivian lost his lordship, and his freedom. But because Vivian was who he was, King John gave him a second chance. He sent Vivian out to defend the most exposed peasants in the long night during the Demon War, with the promise of a pardon if he returned alive after the war. Vivian had always been a survivor. So he came back victorious, and a hero to the peasants. King Harald knighted him for his services, and put him in charge of Castle Security.

  Vivian Hellstrom, hero of Tower Rouge and a legend in his own right. And a pardoned traitor.

  Hawk only knew what Fisher had told him of Vivian’s treachery, but he could see the naked suspicion in Fisher’s cold gaze as she looked on the High Commander. He stayed close to her, though whether to protect her from Vivian or Vivian from her, he wasn’t sure. Fisher had never been one to forgive and forget. A full company of armed and armored guards filed out of the main door behind Vivian, spreading out to take up what could have been either a ceremonial or a defensive formation. Hawk remembered earlier times when he had returned from fighting the Kingdom’s battles only to be faced with cold ingratitude from the very people he was protecting. Maybe nothing had changed after all.

  Chance cleared his throat loudly, and all eyes turned to him. “Greetings, Sir Vivian,” he said easily. “It’s good to be home again. Thanks for the welcome. Nice turnout.”

  “It is good to see you again, Sir Questor,” said Sir Vivian in his cold, even voice. “Where are Prince Rupert and Princess Julia?”

  “Ah,” said Chance. “That’s something of a long story, I’m afraid.”

  As he launched into it, smiling bravely all the while, Hawk took the opportunity to distract Fisher by quietly filling her in on the background of Vivian Hellstrom’s legend. He should have done it earlier, when he knew they were going to have to deal with Sir Vivian, but somehow he had never gotten around to it.

  In the beginning there had been the two Hellstrom brothers, Vivian and Gawaine, more famous for their parentage than anything else. Their father was the High Warlock, their mother that most notorious and evil sorceress, the Night Witch, who lived alone deep in the Darkwood. The first anyone knew of the twins’ existence was when the Night Witch sent them as babies to the Forest Castle, carried tenderly by demons right up to the front door of the Castle. A short note gave their names and their parentage, and a prophecy that one day they would save the Forest Land.

  The High Warlock was summoned from a nearby tavern. He stayed just long enough to acknowledge them as his, then turned them over to foster parents and went straight back to his tavern. When the Hellstrom brothers came of age, they enlisted in the Forest army, and saw much action in the vicious border disputes of the time between the Forest and Hillsdown. Most notably, they defended Tower Rouge at Hob’s Gateway, standing alone after all their comrades were killed, facing down a whole battalion of Hillsdown troops until reinforcements could arrive. Their brave stand saved the Kingdom from imminent invasion, and made them legends.

  King John knighted them both. Songs were still sung about that brave stand at Tower Rouge, and the two noble warriors who would not be beaten, despite all the odds against them.

  “You can’t trust songs,” Fisher said finally. “Hell, you’ve heard some of the songs they sing about us. I only ever knew Vivian as a conspirator and a traitor. Anything else I ought to know about the Hellstrom brothers?”

  “Gawaine’s settled in Redhart these days. Left the Forest under something of a cloud, I gather. He has one child, the Seneschal here at Forest Castle. Prince Rupert met their mother, the Night Witch, once—”

  “What was that?” Sir Vivian interrupted sharply, looming suddenly over them. “How do you know that? That’s never been part of Rupert’s legend!”

  Hawk decided he was going to have to be very careful in the future what he said about his previous life. “That’s the legend as we heard it in the south, Sir Vivian, but I’m sure you know how much a story can change on its travels. Has Chance explained things to you?”

  “He has, and I don’t believe a word of it. I’m supposed to believe you’re here out of the goodness of your hearts? To help a King and a country you know nothing of? Why should you do such a thing?”

  “Why did you stand your ground at Tower Rouge against impossible odds?” asked Hawk.

  Sir Vivian just grunted, then looked hard at Hawk and Fisher. They did their best to stand easy, entirely calm and unruffled, but this was the first real test of their new identities. Sir Vivian had good reason to remember Princess Julia. But in the end he just grunted again, unimpressed.

  “So the Prince and Princess won’t be coming back, despite our most desperate need. Perhaps you would care to explain why.”

  “They’re needed elsewhere,” said Hawk smoothly. “A matter of conscience and duty. I’m sure you can understand that.” He looked about him. The great crowd in the courtyard was still silent, hanging on his every word. Hawk decided to concentrate on Sir Vivian, who was marginally less disconcerting. “We are Hawk and Fisher, Guard Captains. We have a lot of experience in investigating and solving murders. Rupert and Julia authorized us to act on their behalf here; to speak with their voices and exercise their authority.”

  “And why would they choose you?” Sir Vivian asked coldly.

  “Because we’re very close,” said Fisher.

  “You have some proof of your office here, of course,” said Sir Vivian in a voice that suggested he very much doubted it.

  “Of course,” said Fisher. She handed over the letter of introduction Hawk had prepared earlier. “It’s in Rupert’s own hand, signed by both Rupert and Juli
a, and bears Rupert’s seal at the bottom. You do recognize the Royal seal of the Forest Kings, don’t you?”

  Sir Vivian scowled, but nodded reluctantly. There had only ever been three Royal seals, one each for John, Harald, and Rupert. Handed down through generations of the Forest line, they were magical constructs and could not be duplicated. The letter might have been forged, the seal, never. He handed the letter back to Hawk, and then glowered at Hawk and Fisher equally.

  “What precisely was so important that the Prince and Princess could turn their backs on the Forest Land?”

  “That’s their business,” said Hawk politely.

  “I have a right to know!”

  “No, you don’t,” said Fisher. “If they’d wanted you to know, they’d have put it in the letter. All you need to know is they’re not coming, but we are here to do everything they would.”

  “Wonderful,” said Sir Vivian, almost viciously. “This will change everything. The King’s death left the Court and the country divided into factions almost beyond counting. Prince Rupert and Princess Julia are legends. Real heroes. All sides had agreed to an uneasy peace, awaiting their return. The Prince and Princess were the only people everyone would have trusted, or at least listened to. Once the news gets out that all we’ve got is you, the peace will collapse in a second. The last thing the Court or this country needs is two outsiders upsetting the political process and walking all over our customs and beliefs.”