Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (44 page)

“My Seneschal will take you to the farmers. Their leader is a man called Madoc Thorne; obey his orders as you would mine. Give them all the support you can, Lord Vivian; they were true to me, even after I failed them.”

“We will defend their lives with our own, Sire. My word on it.”

King John looked up from the fire, and stared at him for a long moment. “Why did you betray me, Vivian?”

Vivian smiled. “Ambition, Sire. I wished to be High Commander of the Guard.”

“No other reason?”

“No, Sire,” said Lord Vivian quietly. “No other reason worth the mentioning.”

Harald shot Vivian a quick glance, but said nothing.

“Well, then,” said King John slowly, “I’ll see you again, my Lord, when all this is over.”

“Of course, Sire,” said Lord Vivian. He bowed formally to the King, and then turned and left, ignoring Harald and Julia. For a while nobody said anything, lost in their own thoughts.

“Do you really think he’s going to stay with the farmers?” asked Julia.

“Of course,” said Harald. “He gave his word.”

Julia just looked at him.

“He’s a strange chap, is Vivian,” said the King. “I’ve known him half my life, and I still don’t understand what goes on behind those cold, empty eyes of his. He firmly believes in looking out for his own best interests, and yet in his own strange way he’s intensely loyal to the Land. He follows no cause save his own, but he’s never been known to break his word. He wants to be reinstated, and he wants to do penance; I’ve just given him the chance to do both. He’ll hate taking orders from peasants, but he’ll do it, and cut down any of his fellows who refuse. A strange chap, Vivian; but always loyal to the Land and its needs.”

“Don’t worry, Julia,” said Harald. “Vivian’s a cold bastard, but he knows his duty. He won’t betray us again.”

“Well,” said the King, pulling thoughtfully at his beard, “That’s two problems solved, anyway. Unfortunately, we’re still no nearer finding the Curtana.”

Julia looked at him sharply. “I thought the Landsgraves had it?”

“Apparently not. I’ve got my guards searching the traitors’ quarters, but I don’t think they’re going to find anything. Blays swore till the end that he hadn’t taken it, and I’m beginning to believe him.”

“Guillam or Bedivere could have taken it.”

“Not without Blays knowing.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” said Harald, staring soberly into his empty cup. “And that means somewhere in this Castle there’s a traitor we haven’t found yet.”

“Damn right,” said Julia. “The same traitor who let demons into the South Wing.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” said Harald.

“I haven’t,” said Julia. “I’ve still got the scars to remind me.”

“Time to worry about that tomorrow,” said the King, yawning openly. “All in all, it’s been a fairly successful day, I suppose. Considering how easily it might all have gone horribly wrong.”

“True,” said Harald. “If you hadn’t brought those crossbowmen with you, there’s no telling how many Sir Guillam would have killed.”

“Quite,” said John. “I was lucky there. The Landsgraves openly threatened me earlier this evening, when I was meeting with the farmers’ deputation, only to back down and leave when the farmers supported me. That intrigued me; what on earth did the farmers have that could route the Landsgraves so easily? The answer was simple; my guards had swords, but the farmers had longbows. So, I played a hunch, and it worked out.”

There was a long, thoughtful silence.

“Three hundred and forty-eight traitors,” John said finally, all the satisfaction gone from his voice. “Three hundred and forty-eight. Not as many as I’d feared, but a damn sight more than there should have been.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Harald sternly. “They’re the ones who failed the Land, not you. Besides, I talked to most of them at the party; believe me, you’re better off without them.”

“How could you play along with such people?” asked Julia. “Living a double life; different lies for different people … how could you stand it? Why didn’t you just turn Darius in when he first approached you?”

“He did,” said John. “I persuaded him to carry on with the deception, but keep me informed. The party was Harald’s idea, and thanks to him we caught all the rats in one fell swoop. Now I know who I can trust, and who is false. And, I know my son is loyal.”

Harald raised an elegant eyebrow. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“No,” said King John fondly. “But it was nice to be proved right.”

“What’s going to happen with the Barons now?” asked Julia. “More plots; more conspiracies?”

“They won’t be any trouble,” said John, smiling grimly. “They wanted to find out which of us was the stronger, and now they know. They’ll just disown their Landsgraves, publicly condemn the rebels, and promise me anything as long as I don’t withdraw my troops and leave them to face the demons on their own. No, Julia; they won’t risk rocking the boat again.”

“Then it’s all over,” said Julia. “The rebellion is dead.”

“Not quite,” said Harald. “There’s still no sign of Lord Darius. We did finally force that damn bookcase open, but all we found was a tunnel leading into the air vents, and they go on for miles. I’d no idea so many of the interior walls were hollow.”

“But that means he could be anywhere,” said Julia. She stared quickly about her, and shivered.

Harald shrugged. “Just another rat in the walls. We’ll get him, Julia; never fear. The guards are searching the tunnels for him even now. We’ll have him by morning.”

“How’s Gregory?” asked Julia suddenly.

Harald and John looked blankly at each other.

“Who?” said Harald.

“Cecelia’s lover.”

“Oh, him.” Harald frowned. “Hanged himself in his cell, poor bastard.”

“I never liked him,” said Julia. “But somehow I felt sorry for him. He wasn’t a bad sort, at the end. He deserved better than Darius and Cecelia.”

John shrugged. “I’ve no doubt he would have killed any one of us, if the Barons had ordered it. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And he loved the wrong woman,” said Julia.

“Yes,” said Harald. “I suppose he did.”

“I’m tired,” said Julia. “Unless you want me for anything else, I’m going back to my chambers and get some sleep.”

“I’ll walk part of the way with you,” said Harald.

Julia looked at him. “All right,” she said finally. “I think I’d like some company.”

She levered herself up out of her chair, and Harald was there to steady her as she swayed tiredly on her feet.

The King nodded benignly. “Get yourself some rest, my children; you’ve earned it. It’s been a long hard day for all of us.”

They were almost at the door, when the King suddenly stirred in his chair.

“Julia … Bodeen was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”

“No,” said Julia. “I didn’t really know him at all.”

D
arkness lay across the Forest Land from boundary to boundary, complete and unbroken save for an uncertain pool of light surrounding the Forest Castle. Demons moved silently through the smothering dark, sharpening their claws on the decaying bark of dying trees. No sun shone, and though a moon sailed endlessly on the night skies, its light was foul and unhealthy. Plants died for lack of sunlight, and wildlife either starved or fell prey to the demons’ never-ending hunger. Snow and ice covered all the ground, and the freezing air drew the warmth from everything it touched. Men barricaded themselves and their families inside whatever shelter they could find, and prayed for a dawn that never came. Cold and dark and utterly merciless, the long night held dominion over all.

A new sound suddenly rang forth into the Darkwood: a deep sonorous tone like the peal of a huge iron bell. The sound grew steadily louder, building into a mighty roar that reverberated through the long night, shaking the ground and the trees, and challenging the silence. Demons snarled and shuddered and tried to flee, but the unrelenting sound came from everywhere and nowhere, and there was no escaping it. And then the great bass roar climaxed and fell silent as space itself ripped open, and a blinding silver light poured out in the Darkwood, Prince Rupert and his party had finally come home.

Rupert stared dazedly about him as he floated down from the shimmering silver tunnel, and staggered slightly as the ground rose suddenly up to slam against his feet. He was sure he’d spent no more than a few seconds in the tunnel, but in that brief moment the world had moved on, and everything was changed. A familiar stench of decay and corruption filled his nostrils, and the horrid numbing oppression fell upon him like an old familiar cloak. He gripped the unicorn’s reins tightly as he stared wildly around, convinced the Warlock had bungled the spell and dropped them back in the Darkwood they’d just passed through, but then the last of the guards landed safely on the uneven trail, and the silver tunnel suddenly snapped together and disappeared, taking its brilliant light with it. Abandoned in the unrelenting dark, Rupert’s eyes went automatically to the only remaining light; the dim wavering glow surrounding Forest Castle.

For a moment Rupert hurt so bad he couldn’t breathe, and he shook his head in wordless denial. He’d made it to the Dark Tower in time; there was no way in which the long night could have reached this far into the Forest. But there before him stood the Castle, shimmering whitely under a thick blanket of snow and ice and hoarfrost. Long jagged icicles hung from every window and turret, and the moat seemed no more than a single great slab of ice. Torches flickered at regular intervals along the battlements, but their dirty yellow glow did little to throw back the encroaching night. Rupert shuddered uncontrollably, but it had little to do with the bitter cold that was already seeping into his bones. It was one thing to fight his way through the Darkwood as part of the quest, or because it stood between him and the High Warlock, but it had no right to be here, threatening his home. The Darkwood had always been something that happened somewhere else; somewhere comfortably far away. Until now, he’d never actually believed that the Castle which had served the Forest Kings for thirteen generations could ever really fall to the darkness. It was impossible; it couldn’t be happening … Rupert fought hard against his rising hysteria, and slowly brought himself back under control. His mind turned frantically this way and that, searching for an answer, any answer, as to what had gone wrong. How could the Darkwood have spread so fast? And then, finally, Rupert looked up.

Directly above him, floating on a starless night that went on forever, hung the Full Moon. Its color was that of tainted cheese or leprous flesh; the only color the eye can see at dead of night. The Blue Moon had risen.

Time moves differently in the Darkwood.

Rupert turned slowly to stare at the High Warlock. “What have you done?” demanded the Prince, his voice little more than a whisper. “Damn you, what have you done?”

The Warlock looked at him, and swallowed dryly. His face was blank with shock. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Something must have interfered with my teleport spell. This is the right place, but the wrong time. I can’t understand it …”

“We can discuss this later, Sire.” The Champion’s voice was calm and even, but his knuckles showed white where they gripped the long shaft of his double-headed war axe. “There are demons all around us. Our arrival seems to have startled them almost as much as it did us, but they won’t stay startled much longer. We’d do well to get out of here while we still can.”

Rupert glanced briefly at his guardsmen, already set up in a tight defensive circle of drawn sword and glowing lanterns, and nodded slowly. Their quiet competence steadied him, and he ruthlessly suppressed the last vestiges of fear and panic that still moved deep within him.

“You’re right, sir Champion; let’s get the men moving. You and I will take the lead, the High Warlock will guard the rear with his magic. You can do that much, can’t you, sir Warlock?”

The High Warlock flinched, and then nodded stiffly. Rupert drew his sword, hefted the familiar comforting weight, and turned to his guards.

“Stay close together, watch your backs, and once we’ve started don’t stop for anything. It can’t be more than five hundred yards to the Castle, and after all we’ve been through, it’s going to take more than a few damn demons to stop us going home! All right; let’s go. Last man in pays for the beer.”

It wasn’t much of a pep talk, and Rupert knew it, but the guards raised a ragged cheer, anyway. Rupert grinned savagely back, fiercely proud of all of them, and then turned abruptly away so they wouldn’t see the tears that stung his eyes. He took a firm hold of the unicorn’s reins and started forward; not hurrying, but not dawdling either. If the demons thought the party was running from them, they’d attack. A show of confidence might just hold the creatures off while the party gained some precious yards. At this stage, every little bit helped. Rupert glanced surreptitiously about him. The Champion strode at his side, hefting his massive war axe as though it was weightless. The guards and the Warlock padded quietly along behind him in a tight bunch, alert and ready for any sudden sound or movement in the surrounding dark. The Warlock made more noise than all the guards put together. Rupert couldn’t hear the demons that moved along with the party, but every now and then there was a sudden gleam of watching bloodred eyes, glaring in the dark like angry coals, or a fleeting glimpse of silent misshapen figures as they darted from shadow to shadow before and behind the party.