Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (30 page)

“Yes, Master. It’s safely hidden, here in the Castle.”

The Dark Lord chuckled quietly, and the demons stirred. “You have done well, dear traitor. Without that sword, they have no hope against me. I have the touchstone. I have the unicorn’s horn. I have my pretty demons. And now, after all the many centuries, the Blue Moon rises, and my time comes around again.”

“But what of the High Warlock, Master?”

The Demon Prince closed his hand, and again screams rang from the sphere. “For all his learning, and for all his power, the Warlock is just a man. I have faced such men before, and broken them at my pleasure.”

He slowly opened his hand, and the screams stopped. For a time, the only sound in the clearing was the heavy, ragged breathing from the sphere. The Demon Prince smiled.

“Return to my work, slave. Be my eyes and ears at Court. Be my darkness in the heart of their light.”

The sphere shimmered and was gone, and once again darkness lay across the clearing, broken only by the dim blue glow of the phosphorescent lichens. The Dark Lord stared out over his waiting demons, and laughed softly.

“Soon,” he promised them. “Soon …”

Prince Rupert reined the unicorn to a halt, and stared grimly at the Darkwood boundary before him. Darkness hung on the air like a curtain, marking the new beginning of the long night. Rupert shivered, and pulled his cloak tightly about him. Lowering clouds hid the midday sun, and the bitter wind was thick with sleet. The air was tainted with the smell of corruption, and the surrounding trees were gaunt and twisted, withered and malformed by the approaching night. Their dessicated bark was flecked and mottled with a dozen kinds of lichen and mold, and dead leaves choked the ancient trail.

Behind him, Rupert could hear his guards shifting nervously as they got their first good look at the Darkwood. He frowned, and gestured for the Champion to join him. The sooner he led his guards into the long night, the better…before the darkness destroyed what little confidence they still had. Rupert glared through the driving sleet, unable to tear his gaze away from the rotting trees that bordered the Darkwood. He could feel his hands shaking, and the smell of his own sweat was strong in his nostrils. He’d hoped this journey would be easier. He’d already survived the darkness twice. He had a troop of guards to back him up. But still his breath caught in his throat, and his heart hammered against his breastbone. His hands closed tightly on the unicorn’s reins until his knuckles showed white, and he shook his head quickly to clear it. He was going back into the Darkwood come what may, and this time he’d leave the demons a sign to mark his passing they’d never forget.

The Champion guided his armored war horse in beside the unicorn, and nodded briefly to Rupert. “So this is the Darkwood,” he said slowly, a strange excitement stirring in his cold dark eyes. “It’s everything you said, Sire, and more. It’s like a nightmare thrust into the day, a pathway to Hell itself.”

Rupert raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the Champion. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen the Darkwood before?”

“I’m afraid so, Sire. As Champion, my duties have always kept me close to the Castle, and the Darkwood hasn’t been a real threat to the Forest for centuries; the Tanglewood saw to that. I’ve read all the reports, of course, but …”

“Yes,” said Rupert. “I know.”

The Champion studied him closely, as though seeing him for the first time. “And you braved that darkness twice. No wonder you came back changed.” He turned away before Rupert could comment, and brought out a leather map from one of his saddle panniers. Rupert waited impatiently while the Champion unrolled the map, and then he leaned over to point out their position.

“You can see for yourself, sir Champion; we have to go through the Darkwood. There’s no other way. Head East, and we come up against the Starshade Mountains; West, and we’ll have to cross the Brightwater rapids. Either route will cost us weeks of travel we can’t afford. But, if our intelligence reports are right, the Darkwood’s spread pretty thinly here. We should be able to punch our way through and out the other side in two or three hours, if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not lucky, Sire?”

“Then we won’t make it at all,” said Rupert evenly.

The Champion grinned suddenly, and turned to study the darkness waiting before them. “Has it occurred to you, Sire, that the Darkwood may have been left deliberately thin, as a temptation to travellers?”

“Oh sure,” said Rupert. “It’s almost certainly a trap. That’s why speed is so important; we have to get in and out before the demons even know we’re there.”

The Champion shrugged resignedly, and rolled up the map. “A pity. I was hoping I’d get the chance to try my steel against a demon or two.”

Rupert rubbed briefly at the thick scars that marked the right side of his face. “It’s an overrated pastime. If the demons find us, sir Champion, we’re as good as dead. All of us.”

“I’m sure they seemed fierce enough when you had to face them alone, Sire, but …”

“You didn’t understand the Darkwood until you saw it,” said Rupert harshly. “You won’t understand the demons until you’ve seen them gather in the darkness. Now get the men ready to move off; we’ve wasted enough time talking. I’m not sure how the horses will react to the long night, so to begin with everybody walks, leading their horses on a short rein. Light every lantern and oil lamp we’ve got, and strap them to the guards’ saddles. From the moment we enter the Darkwood, every man carries his sword and buckler at the ready, but our only real defense against the darkness will be the light we bring in with us.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little overcautious, Sire?”

“No.”

“Very well, Sire. Which path do we follow through the Darkwood?”

“According to all the legends there’s only ever been one path, and that’s miles away. No, sir Champion; we hack our way into the Darkwood, and cut out a path for ourselves as we go. It shouldn’t be too difficult; those trees are rotten to the core.”

The Champion studied him narrowly. “If there are any demons nearby, they’ll be bound to hear us, Sire.”

Rupert shrugged. “I’ve tried stealth, sir Champion. It doesn’t work. Our only hope is speed.”

The Champion nodded impassively, thrust the map back into his pannier, and moved away to give the guards their orders. Rupert turned his attention back to the Darkwood boundary, and then had to look away. The darkness brought back too many memories. He looked instead at his guards, already dismounted from their horses and searching for flint and steel to light their lanterns. The men seemed calm enough, but the horses were nervous. They stamped their hooves and tossed their heads, their snorting breath steaming on the chill air. They seemed fascinated by the darkness, but rolled their eyes wildly if any guard tried to lead them closer to the boundary. Rupert frowned, and called to the guards to wrap cloaks or blankets round the horses’ heads, to keep the animals from panicking when they were led into the Darkwood.

The guards nodded respectfully, and moved quickly to obey. Seeing the Darkwood close up had impressed the hell out of them, and knowing that Rupert had already been through it twice and survived suddenly meant a great deal more to them than it had. Rupert smiled grimly. The guards might see him as some kind of expert, but he knew better. He swung down out of the saddle and strolled casually among them, talking quietly and calmly, and answering what questions he could about the Darkwood. His answers weren’t exactly reassuring, but the guards listened carefully to everything he said, laughed politely at his jokes, and without actually saying anything themselves, made it very clear that they appreciated his not lying to them about the dangers ahead. Several of the men clapped him on the back, and told him they’d had worse leaders. Rupert went back to his unicorn with tears stinging his eyes. He’d never been more proud of his men, or felt less worthy to lead them.

Finally everything was ready, and Rupert leaned against the unicorn’s shoulder as he looked his guards over one last time. Lamps and lanterns hung from every saddle, glowing palely in the daylight. Smoke drifted on the air from half a dozen torches. Swords gleamed dully in every guardsman’s hand. The horses stirred restlessly, disturbed by the Darkwood’s stench, but the thick cloth around their heads kept them manageable. Rupert bit his lip thoughtfully, checking for anything he might have forgotten. Provisions wouldn’t be a problem this trip, but he’d had the guards fill their canteens from the nearby brook, just in case. Rupert sighed. Everything that needed to be done had been done. Anything else would just be an excuse, to help him put off the moment when he’d have to go back into the Darkness again. The darkness that had laid its mark upon him.

He shook his head angrily, and looked to the Champion, who stood waiting patiently at the Darkwood boundary, his huge double-headed war axe in his hands. The two massive blades flashed brightly as the Champion hefted the axe. He looked at Rupert inquiringly, and grinned when Rupert nodded curtly. The Champion took a firm grip on the axe’s oaken shaft and turned to face the darkness. For a moment he hesitated and then, with one swift movement, he raised the axe above his head and brought it savagely down on the first Darkwood tree. The steel blade sank deep into the rotting wood, and the stench of corruption was suddenly worse. The Champion jerked the axe free and struck again, shearing clean through the tree. The trunk was hollow, eaten away from within. The Champion worked on, swinging the giant war axe effortlessly, and then he stepped forward into the Darkwood, and the darkness swallowed him. The sound of his axe cutting into rotten wood could still be heard, but only faintly, as though from far away. Rupert gestured to the first half-dozen guards, and they set about widening the new path into the darkness.

Rupert watched uneasily as their swords rose and fell in a steady rhythm, cutting quickly through the decaying wood. The scars of his face ached fiercely, throbbing to the rhythm of the swordblows. He didn’t have to go back into the darkness. He could still change his mind, and go the long way around. Rupert clenched his hands until the nails dug painfully into his palms. He’d beaten the Darkwood before; he could beat it again. He had to. If only because his men trusted him to get them through safely. He realized he was holding the unicorn’s reins too tightly, and slowly relaxed his hands.

“Rupert,” said the unicorn quietly, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No,” said Rupert. “If you’ve got a better one, let’s hear it.”

The unicorn sniffed, and tossed his head. “I’m just the transport; who listens to me?”

“Don’t start that again,” said Rupert wearily. “You’re my friend, and right now I need all the help I can get. If there was any other way to reach the Dark Tower in time, I’d take it. Do you think I want to go back into the darkness?”

“No,” said the unicorn softly. “I know you don’t. I don’t want to, either.”

“We don’t have any choice,” said Rupert, his voice not as firm as he would have liked. “If the Blue Moon rises before we get back, there’ll be nowhere to get back to. The High Warlock may be our last chance to stop the long night.”

“The rainbow sword …”

“Saved us once. It can’t help us again. I tried to call a Rainbow back in the Coppertown mine, when I was being chased by that creature. Nothing happened.”

“Hardly surprising,” said the unicorn. “How’s a Rainbow supposed to get to you when you’re hidden away down in the depths of a mine?”

“I thought of that,” said Rupert tiredly. “I’ve tried to summon the Rainbow a dozen times since, but nothing’s ever happened. What magic there was in the sword is gone.”

“Great,” said the unicorn. “Just great. I notice you didn’t mention this before we got to the Darkwood.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” said Rupert innocently.

The unicorn snorted, and kicked at the muddy trail with his hoof. “No dragon, no rainbow sword, and we’re going back into the darkness. We must be mad. Ah well; if nothing else, maybe we’ll find the demon that thieved my horn. I feel naked without it.”

“You’re always naked,” said Rupert.

“You can go off people, you know,” said the unicorn.

Rupert chuckled briefly, and then looked up as one of the guards called to him. They’d finished widening the path. Rupert took a deep breath, let it go slowly, and led his unicorn and his men into the Darkwood.

Night slammed down as Rupert crossed the boundary. The wind and the sleet couldn’t follow him, but the darkness was even colder; an icy chill that sank into his bones and gnawed at them, until it seemed he’d never feel warm again. As more and more guards crossed the boundary into the Darkwood, their lamps and lanterns helped push the darkness back, and Rupert began to breathe more easily. Not far ahead, the Champion and his guards pressed steadily forward in their own little pool of light, slowly and methodically opening up a new trail into the Darkwood. Rupert hefted his sword and stared about him, but the dim lamplight couldn’t penetrate far into the endless gloom. Gnarled misshapen trees glowed golden under the light, and every now and again a twisted branch would stir slightly, though no wind blew in the long night.

“How are you feeling?” asked the unicorn quietly.

“Lousy,” said Rupert. “I keep feeling we’re being watched.”

“We probably are.”

“You’re a great comfort. Can you see anything out there?”

“No.”

Rupert scowled unhappily. “They know we’re here. I can feel it. It’s just a matter of time … With luck, we’ll be out of here in an hour.”

The unicorn snorted. “Since when have we ever been lucky?”

Cutting the path was slow, hard work, and as the company pressed deeper into the Dark wood, their pace soon slowed to a crawl. The guardsmen crowded together, glancing uneasily about them as the dark brooding oppression of the long night sank slowly into their souls. Their usual joking and horseplay soon vanished, replaced by a wary, watchful silence.

Rupert changed the trail cutters as soon as they showed signs of tiring, but there was a limit to how fast the guards could fell and drag aside the closely packed trees. The sound of steel cutting into rotten wood was eerily loud on the quiet, but still there was no sign of the demons. The waiting wore at Rupert’s nerves, and it was all he could do to stop himself jumping at every sudden sound or movement. The slow march continued, and he began to worry that the candles in the lanterns wouldn’t last the journey. He tried to figure out how much oil there was left for the lamps, and then bit his lip when he remembered he’d used most of it to burn the creature from the Coppertown pit. He swore softly, and checked the candle in his own lantern. Less than an inch of stub remained; half an hour, at most. Rupert frowned. Perhaps that was the demons’ plan; wait until the company lost its light, and then attack under cover of the darkness. Rupert called for the men to stop and rest, and moved over to join the Champion.