Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (25 page)

Darius patted her hand soothingly. “Let them think they’re in charge for the time being, my dear. It does no harm, and it keeps the Barons happy.”

“And after the rebellion?”

“Afterwards, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prove to Harald who really killed his father …”

Cecelia laughed, and clapped her hands together impishly. “And with the Landsgraves discredited, who else can he turn to for support, but us? Darius, dear heart, you’re a genius.”

Darius smiled, and sipped at his wine. “Have you been able to entice Harald into your bed yet?”

“Not yet.”

Darius raised a plucked eyebrow. “Are you losing your touch, my dear?”

Cecelia chuckled earthily. “I’m beginning to wonder. Court gossip has it that he’s infatuated with the Princess Julia. I suspect the novelty of a woman who knows how to say no intrigues him. Still, he’ll get over that. And I’ll have him in my bed if I have to drag him.” She frowned thoughtfully. “King Harald. It sounds well enough, and with us behind him he’ll be great in spite of himself.”

“I wonder,” said Darius softly. “We’re taking a lot on ourselves. If anything should go wrong …”

“Dear cautious Darius,” said Cecelia. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’ve planned it all so carefully. What could go wrong now?”

“I don’t know,” said Darius. “But no scheme’s perfect.”

Cecelia sighed, rose to her feet, and brushed her lips across Darius’s forehead. “It’s been a trying evening, dear. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Ah yes; how is Gregory?”

“Still having problems from when Julia hurt him, but I’m helping to cure that.”

Darius chuckled, and Cecelia smiled at him affectionately. “Dear Darius. Sometimes I wish …”

“I’m sorry,” said Darius. “But you know I’ve never been interested in that sort of thing.”

“It was just a thought,” said Cecelia. “We make a good team though, don’t we?”

“Of course,” said Darius. “Brains and beauty; an unbeatable combination. Good night, my dear.”

“Good night,” said Cecelia, and hurried off to her tryst.

Darius sat quietly in his chair, thinking of the meeting he had to plan for the Prince Harald. There was much to do.

What the hell am I doing here?
Thought Julia as she followed the Seneschal down yet another dimly lit corridor, but she already knew the answer. With so many worries and problems crowding her head, she’d had to find something to do, or go crazy. The Seneschal’s expedition to rediscover the lost South Wing had seemed a heaven-sent opportunity, but she was beginning to have her doubts. She’d been walking for what seemed like hours, mostly in circles, through what had to be the most boring corridors Julia had ever seen. She was beginning to think the Seneschal was doing it on purpose.

He hadn’t seemed all that pleased to see her when she’d first approached him about the expedition, but then, the Seneschal rarely seemed pleased about anything. Tall, painfully thin and prematurely bald, his aquiline features were permanently occupied by doubt, worry, and a frantic desire to get as much done as possible before everything fell apart around him. He was in his mid-thirties, looked twenty years older, and didn’t give a damn. His faded topcoat had seen better days, and his boots looked as though they hadn’t been polished in years. He was fussy, pedantic, and bad-tempered, and those were his good points, but he was also the best damn tracker the Castle had ever known, so everybody made allowances. Lots of them. When Julia first found him, he was scowling at a large and complex map, while a dozen heavily armed guards waited impatiently and practiced looking evil. One of the guardsmen spotted Julia approaching, and tapped the Seneschal on the arm. He looked up and saw Julia, and his face fell.

“Yes? What do you want?”

“I’ve come to join your expedition,” said Julia brightly, and then watched interestedly as the Seneschal rolled up his eyes and shook his fists at the ceiling.

“It’s not enough the maps are hopelessly out of date. It’s not enough that my deadline’s been brought forward a month. It’s not enough that I’ve been given twelve neanderthals in chain mail as my guard! No! On top of all that, I get landed with the Princess Julia as well! Forget it! I’m not standing for it! I am the Seneschal of this Castle and I will not stand for it!”

“I knew you’d be pleased,” said Julia.

The Seneschal seemed torn between apoplexy and a coronary, but finally settled for looking terribly old and put upon. “Why me, Princess? It’s a big Castle; there are hundreds of other people you could annoy. Why not go and persecute them instead?”

“Now don’t be silly,” said Julia briskly. “I promise I’ll try really hard to be helpful and not get in the way.”

The Seneschal winced. “Must you? You always do so much more damage when you’re trying to be helpful.” He noticed the storm clouds gathering on Julia’s brow, and sighed resignedly. “Oh, all right then. If you must. But stay close to me, don’t go off on your own, and
please
, Princess, don’t hit anyone until you’ve checked with me first.”

“Of course not,” said Julia innocently. The Seneschal just looked at her.

Which was why, some time later, Julia was boredly following the Seneschal down a dimly lit corridor somewhere at the rear of the Castle, and rapidly coming to the conclusion that this had not been one of her better ideas. And then the Seneschal took a sharp right turn, and everything changed. With all its many corridors and halls, it was inevitable that parts of the Forest Castle would fall into disuse, and Julia felt her interest reviving as it became obvious that nobody had walked this corridor in years. The wood-panelled walls were dull and unpolished, and thick spiderwebs shrouded the empty lamps and wall brackets. The Seneschal called a halt while two of the guards lit the lanterns they’d brought with them, and then he led the party on down the corridor. Julia drew the dagger from her boot and carried it in her hand. The dim light and the quiet reminded her uncomfortably of the Dark wood.

The corridor eventually branched in two, and the Seneschal stopped the party again while he consulted several maps. Julia moved cautiously forward and studied the two branches. The left-hand fork seemed to curve round and head back the way they’d come, whilst the right-hand fork led into an unrelieved darkness that raised the hackles on the back of her neck. Julia shook her head to clear it, and made herself breathe deeply. The Darkwood was miles away. A little darkness couldn’t hurt her. Julia clutched tightly at the hilt of her dagger, as though for comfort, and smiled grimly. Even after all this time, she still needed a lit candle in her room at night, before she could sleep. Like Rupert before her, the long night had left its mark on Julia. Her heart jumped suddenly as she realized there was someone standing beside her, and then it steadied again when she recognized the Seneschal.

“Which way?” she asked, and was relieved to find that her voice was still steady.

“I’m not sure yet,” said the Seneschal testily. “According to all the maps, we should take the left-hand branch, but that feels wrong. That feels very wrong. No, to hell with the maps; we have to go right. Into the darkness.”

“I might have known,” muttered Julia.

“What? What was that? I do wish you wouldn’t mumble, Princess; it’s a very annoying habit.”

Julia shrugged, unoffended. The Seneschal’s perpetual air of desperation made it impossible for anyone to take his remarks personally; he was so obviously mad at the world, rather than whoever he happened to be addressing at the time.

“Why are we looking for the South Wing, sir Seneschal?”

“Because, Princess, it has been lost for thirty-two years. That’s lost, as in missing, unable to be found, vanished from human ken; absent without leave. It may not have been a particularly impressive Wing, as Wings go, but we were all rather fond of it, and we want it back. That’s why we’re out looking for it. What else should we do; throw a party to mark the thirty-second anniversary of its loss?”

“No, sir Seneschal,” said Julia patiently, “I meant, why are we looking for it
now?
You’ve managed without it all these years; why is it suddenly so important?”

“Ah,” said the Seneschal, and peered dubiously at the Princess. “I suppose if I don’t tell you, you’ll just make my life even more of a misery.”

“Got it in one,” said Julia cheerfully.

The Seneschal sighed, glanced furtively at the waiting guards, and then gestured for Julia to lean closer. “It’s not exactly a secret, but I’d rather the guards didn’t know what we’re after until they have to. I’m sure they’re all perfectly loyal to the King … but why take chances?”

“Get on with it,” said Julia impatiently, intrigued by the Seneschal’s uncharacteristic nervousness.

“We’re looking for the South Wing,” said the Seneschal quietly, “because that’s where the Old Armory is.”

Julia looked at him blankly. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“The King intends to draw the Curtana,” said the Seneschal, “And the Curtana is in the Old Armory.”

“Got it,” said Julia. “I’m with you now.”

“I’m so glad,” said the Seneschal. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Yes,” said Julia dryly. “If this Curtana is as powerful as everyone makes out, how is it that no one’s tried to find the Old Armory before, and take the sword for themselves?”

“Over the years, a great many people have tried.”

“So what happened to them?”

“We don’t know. None of them ever came back.”

“Terrific,” said Julia. “I notice you didn’t tell me any of this before we set out.”

“I thought you knew,” said the Seneschal.

“Assuming we get to the Old Armory,” said Julia, “a prospect that seems increasingly unlikely the more I think about it, I take it you will be able to recognize the Curtana when you see it?”

The Seneschal stared into the darkness of the right-hand corridor, and smiled grimly. “The Curtana is a short sword, not more than three feet in length, and it has no point. Going back several hundred years, it used to be called the Sword of Mercy. It was presented to each Forest King at his coronation, as a symbol for justice tempered by compassion. And then James VII came to the throne. He took the Curtana and set a touchstone within its hilt…a sorcerous black gem that enslaved the minds of all who beheld it. Legend has it that the Demon Prince himself gave King James the stone, but records of that time are scarce. It was a time of murder and madness, in which the Curtana became the Sword of Compulsion, a symbol of tyranny. No one has drawn that blade since James was overthrown, but it’s said that even sheathed, the sword has an aura of blood and death and terror. I’ve never seen the Curtana, Julia, but I don’t think I’ll have any problem recognizing it.”

The Seneschal turned away and glared at the waiting guards, who were peering into the darkness ahead and hefting their swords warily. “And now, if you’ve run out of questions for the time being, Princess, I think we should press on, before those neanderthals start carving their initials into the woodwork.”

He paused just long enough for each guardsman to light his lantern, and then strode confidently forward into the gloom of the right-hand corridor.
Damn the man
, thought Julia as she and the guards hurried to catch up with the Seneschal,
There’s a lot to be said for bravery and heroism, but this is getting out of hand. First he tells me horror stories about previous search parties that never came back, and then he goes marching off into the dark without even bothering to send in a few scouts first.
Julia scowled, and shook her head.
I should never have let them take away my sword …

The party’s footsteps echoed hollowly back from the dust-covered walls, but even that small sound seemed to carry eerily along the quiet corridor. The guards huddled together and held their lanterns high, but still the darkness pressed hungrily against the sparse pool of light the lanterns cast. In the constant gloom, it was hard to judge distances, and Julia began to wonder if the corridor had an end, or if the damn thing just went on forever. She looked back the way she’d come, but the original junction was already lost to the darkness. There was a faint scurrying sound on the edge of her hearing, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t seem to place where it was coming from.
Probably rats
, she thought, hefting her dagger.
After thirty-two years, they probably think they own the place.

“How can anyone lose a whole Wing?” She asked the Seneschal, more for the comfort of the sound of her voice, than because she cared about the answer.

“It seems one of the Astrologer’s spells went wrong,” said the Seneschal absentmindedly, while dubiously studying a map in the light of a guardsman’s lantern. “No one’s quite sure exactly what he was up to, and since he’s still too embarrassed to talk about it, the odds are we’ll never find out, but apparently there was a massive explosion, and then in the space of a few moments all the doors and corridors that used to lead to the South Wing suddenly … didn’t. Those people who were in the Wing were able to get out, but nobody could get in. Legend has it that there were a few people unaccounted for, who never got out.”

“What a horrible thought,” said Julia, shivering despite herself.

“If you don’t want to know the answers, don’t ask the questions,” said the Seneschal testily. “Now quiet, please; I’m trying to concentrate.”

Julia swallowed an angry retort, and the Seneschal went back to frowning over his map. The air grew steadily more stifling and oppressive as the party pressed on into the darkness, and Julia glared about her as the faint scuffling noises seemed to hover at the edge of the lamplight. The guards heard it too, and one by one they drew their swords.
It’s only a few rats
, Julia told herself sternly, but her imagination conjured up images of people watching from the darkness. Men and women, grown strange and crazy in their isolation. Children, who’d never known any other world than the South Wing. Julia took a firm grip on her dagger.
Even rats can be dangerous
, she thought defensively.

And then Julia stumbled and almost fell as the floor lurched violently and dropped away beneath her. The corridor walls seemed to recede into the distance and then return, sweeping in and out in the space of a moment. Her sense of left and right and up and down reversed itself and then spun her dizzily round and round before snapping back to normal. A sudden darkness swallowed the lanternlight, and she could hear voices crying out in fear and anger, but only faintly, as if from a great distance. She felt she had to keep moving, but every step seemed harder than the one before, and her muscles ached with the effort it took to press on. A hideous pressure built within and around her, trying to force her back, but Julia wouldn’t give in. That wasn’t her way. The pressure reached a peak, but Julia could feel there were people in the darkness with her, helping her to fight back. She drew on their strength, and they drew on hers, and together they threw themselves forward. And then the light came back, and the world was steady again.