Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (20 page)

Rupert wavered uncertainly as the glowing silver tide came sweeping forward, dark shadows that had once been men floating half-digested within the creature’s bulk. Some of the shadows were no larger than children. That thought gave him the answer, and Rupert grinned fiercely as he pulled from inside his jerkin the cloth doll he’d found abandoned back in the miner’s house. He dipped the doll’s head in the oil, stood up, and then touched the candle to the doll’s head. It burned steadily, glowing gold and crimson against the dark. Rupert looked up. The creature was almost upon him, filling the tunnel from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. Its deep sonorous grunts had taken on a hellish, unnerving rhythm that seemed to shudder through his bones. Rupert threw the burning doll into the oil, and then turned and ran for the surface.

Intense heat scorched his back as the oil caught, and the tunnel was suddenly full of light. And then the creature screamed shrilly, so loudly that Rupert stumbled to a halt, his hands clapped to his ears. He stared back down the tunnel and saw the creature burning, brighter than the brightest lamp. It writhed and heaved as the fire coursed through it, consuming the creature from within. It tried to retreat back down the tunnel, but the fire followed, and the flames grew brighter still, until Rupert could hardly see for the blinding glare. He turned and ran for the surface again, driven away by the searing heat, and then a vast explosion picked him up and threw him down the tunnel, and all the light was gone.

For a time, he lay still on the packed earth of the tunnel floor, just glad to be alive. His head ached, and his ears rang from the explosion, but otherwise he seemed largely unhurt. He rose painfully to his feet, half choking on the thick evil-smelling smoke that filled the narrow tunnel, and slowly he made his way back through the darkness, and out into the night. The waiting guards cheered as he stumbled out of the main entrance, and Rupert raised a hand tiredly in response and then sat down quickly before he fell down. The guards laughed, cheered him again, and then moved away to start preparations for the journey back to Coppertown. Rupert leaned back against the entrance wall, and let the tiredness take him. He felt he’d earned a rest, at least for a while. The Champion came and stood over him.

“I take it the creature burned, Sire.”

“Yes,” said Rupert. “It burned.”

’Do you think it’s dead?”

“They say fire purifies … No, sir Champion, it’s not dead. We’ve just hurt it, and driven it back, back into the depths, into the dark and secret places of the earth from which it came.”

Rupert rose slowly to his feet, stared briefly into the mine entrance and then turned his back on it. The cold wind blowing was clear and fresh, dispelling the stench of corruption and decay like a passing memory.

“You didn’t have to stay and light the oil,” said the Champion slowly. “That was well and bravely done, Sire.”

Rupert shrugged uncomfortably. “You did pretty well yourself, sir Champion.”

“I did my duty, nothing more.”

Rupert thought of the Champion’s fear of the mine, but said nothing.

“A pity we couldn’t save any of the townspeople,” said the Champion.

“It was already too late when we got here,” said Rupert. “There was nothing we could have done. Not much of a homecoming for you, was it?”

The Champion watched the guards mill back and forth, his face as impassive as ever. “Forest Castle is my home, Sire, and always has been. What are your orders for the mine?”

“Have the guards bring down the tunnel roof again, sir Champion; I want that entrance completely blocked. I doubt it’ll stop the creature getting out, but it should stop it enticing any more victims down into the mine.”

The Champion nodded, and moved away to give the orders to the guards. Rupert watched him go, and let his hand rest on the pommel of the rainbow sword. Now the blade had proved itself worthless as a weapon against the dark, his mission to summon the High Warlock became more important than ever.

The wind seemed suddenly colder. Rupert stared up at the new moon; already it seemed tinged with blue, like the first hint of leprosy.

P
rincess Julia paced impatiently back and forth in the Court’s narrow antechamber, bored out of her mind. King John had sent for her half an hour ago, but despite all her shouting and kicking, the double doors leading to the Great Hall remained securely locked. Julia threw herself into a chair and scowled at the world, fed up to her back teeth. There was no one to talk to, nothing to do, and since they’d taken down all the portraits she couldn’t even while away the time with a little target practice. Julia sighed disgustedly, folded her arms, and cursed Rupert to hell and back for riding off and leaving her.

He’d been gone almost three months, and Julia missed him more than she cared to admit. She’d done her best to settle into the Court and its Society, but like so many times before, her best hadn’t been nearly good enough. Her willingness to knock brickdust out of anybody dumb enough to insult her twice had earned her a certain grudging respect, but few friends. Those Ladies of Julia’s age and station had tried their utmost to make her feel welcome, but they didn’t really have much in common with the young Princess. Their main interests were gossip, fashion, and the best ways of catching a rich husband, while Julia didn’t give a damn about romantic or Court intrigue, threw away her fashionable shoes because they pinched her feet, and threatened to become violent if anyone even mentioned her forthcoming marriage to Prince Harald. She much preferred riding, hunting, and sword-drill, pastimes which scandalized her peers. It’s not
feminine,
they protested faintly. In reply, Julia said something extremely coarse, and all the young Ladies found sudden compelling reasons why they had to be somewhere else.

After that, Julia found herself left pretty much alone.

At first, she spent a lot of time exploring the Castle. She quickly discovered that the same door needn’t lead to the same room twice; that some doors were entrances, some were exits, but not all were both; and that some corridors actually folded back upon themselves when you weren’t looking. Julia found all this intensely interesting, but unfortunately she tended to get lost rather a lot, and after the fourth search party King John made her promise not to stray from the main corridors without a guide. And that, for all practical purposes, was that.

Like their master the Seneschal, who governed the day-today running of the Castle, the guides shared a strange mystical sense that told them where they were in relation to everything else. This meant that not only could they not get lost, but they knew where any given room was at any given time. In a Castle where directions depended on which day of the week it was when you asked, such gifted people were invaluable, and therefore rather scarce on the ground when you needed them. Julia reluctantly gave up her explorations, and went back to challenging the guards at sword-drill.

The King then provided her with a chaperone. Julia quickly discovered the easiest way to deal with that sweet gray-haired old Lady was to run her off her feet. After three days of running round the Castle at full tilt just to keep Julia in sight, this worthy Lady told the King flatly that the young Princess had no need of a chaperone, as there wasn’t a man in the Castle fleet enough of foot to catch up with her.

Which was not to say that nobody tried. The main contender was of course Harald, who seemed to think that their arranged marriage already gave him certain rights to her person, if not her affections. A few jolting left hooks taught him to keep his distance, and sharpened up his reflexes wonderfully, but he seemed to regard it all as part of the game and wouldn’t be put off. Julia supposed she was meant to find this flattering, but she didn’t. Harald was charming enough when he wanted to be, but when he wasn’t flexing his muscles for her to admire, he was dropping heavy hints about his vast personal wealth, and how all the Forest Kingdom would be his one day. In return, Julia tried to drop little hints concerning how she felt about him; like hitting him, or trying to push him off the battlements. Unfortunately he still didn’t seem to get the message. Julia avoided him as much as possible, and for the most part they’d settled on an armed truce, with an unspoken agreement never to use the word
marriage.

But she was still bored, and even a little lonely. The Ladies-in-Waiting weren’t talking to her, the courtiers had disowned her, and the guards wouldn’t duel with her any more because it made them look bad when they lost. So, when King John summoned her to Court, she went. It was something to do.

Julia glowered at the closed Court doors, and her hand dropped to her side, where her swordhilt used to be. Her scowl deepened as her hand clutched aimlessly at nothing. Even after all this time she still felt naked without a sword on her hip, but the King had been adamant about her not wearing a sword in the Castle, and she’d grown tired of arguing. And so the sword Rupert had given her in the Darkwood now lay locked away in her bedchamber, unused except for sword-drill. Julia sighed moodily. It wasn’t as if she needed the sword, anyway. And she still had her dagger, tucked securely into the top of her boot.

Julia slouched in her chair, and stared gloomily round the antechamber. She was tempted to just get up and leave, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her. King John had to have some good reason for suddenly requiring her presence at Court, and Julia had an uneasy feeling that when she found out what it was, she wasn’t going to like it. So she gritted her teeth, and stayed put. She smiled slightly as her roving gaze fell upon the locked double doors again. The carpenters had done their best, but though the sturdy oaken doors had been carefully rehung, nothing short of total replacement would ever hide the deep scars and gouges left by the dragon’s claws.

Julia frowned as the steady murmur of raised voices continued to seep past the closed doors. The courtiers had been shouting at each other when she first arrived, and it seemed they were still going strong. The sound was just loud enough to be intriguing without being understandable, and Julia decided she’d had enough. She leapt to her feet, glared round the sparsely furnished antechamber, and then grinned evilly as an idea struck her. Keep her waiting, would they? She studied the hanging tapestries for a moment, pulled down the ugliest, and stuffed it into the narrow gap between the doors and the floor. She then removed one of the flaring torches from its holder, knelt down, and carefully set light to the tapestry.

It burned well, giving off thick streamers of smoke, and Julia replaced the torch in its holder, and waited impatiently for the Court to notice. For a time the flames leapt and crackled to no effect, and Julia had just started to wonder if a little lamp oil might not help things along, when the Court fell suddenly silent. There was the briefest of pauses, and then the silence was broken by piercing shrieks and yells of “Fire!” Julia smiled complacently as through the doors wafted the unmistakable sounds of panic; swearing, shouting, and running in circles. The doors flew open to reveal Harald, who nodded to Julia and then emptied a pitcher of table wine over the burning cloth, dousing the flames instantly.

“Hello, Julia,” he said casually. “We’ve been expecting you.”

She pushed past him. He grinned and goosed her, and then ducked quickly to avoid the dagger that nearly took his ear off.

“That one wasn’t even close,” he chided her, staying carefully just out of reach as he led her through the flustered courtiers. “Does that mean you’re mellowing toward me?”

“No,” said Julia. “It means I need to practice more.”

Harald laughed, and brought her before the throne. King John glared at her tiredly.

“Princess Julia; why can’t you knock, like everyone else?”

“I’ve been kept waiting for almost an hour!” snapped Julia.

“I do have other business to attend to, apart from you.”

“Fine; I’ll come back when you’ve finished.”

She turned to leave, and found the way blocked by half a dozen heavily armed guards.

“Princess Julia,” said the King evenly, “Your attitude leaves much to be desired.”

“Tough,” said Julia. She glared at the guards, and then turned reluctantly back to the throne. “All right; what do you want?”

“For the moment, just wait quietly while I finish my other business. Harald can keep you company.”

Julia sniffed disdainfully, hitched up her ankle-long dress, and sat down at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne. The marble step was cold, even through the thick carpeting, but Julia was damned if she was going to stand around until the King was ready to talk to her. It was a matter of principle. Harald came and sat down beside her, still keeping just out of arm’s reach. Julia smiled slightly, drew her dagger from the boot, and cut tic-tac-toe lines into the carpet between them. Harald grinned, drew a dagger from his boot, and carved a cross in the center square. King John decided not to notice.

He closed his eyes briefly, and then turned his attention to the three men waiting before his throne with varying degrees of patience. He’d had dealings with Sir Blays before, but the two other Landsgraves were new to him. All three had arrived together, which implied the Barons had finally agreed on a common course of action, but judging from the way the three Landsgraves watched each other all the time, it was an uneasy alliance at best. King John smiled slowly, and settled back in his throne. Divide and conquer, that was the way. Get them arguing among themselves, and their own vested interests would tear them apart.