Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (31 page)

“I really don’t think it’s wise to stop, Sire,” said the Champion quietly.

“We’re using too much light,” said Rupert shortly. “Either we cut back now, or we’ll finish our journey in darkness.”

The Champion nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll order the lamps doused. The lanterns can give us what light we need. When they’re exhausted we’ll switch back to the lamps.” He looked at Rupert warningly. “The men won’t like it, Sire.”

“They’ll like the dark less,” said Rupert. “Anything’s better than the dark.”

The Champion looked into Rupert’s haunted eyes, and looked away. “I’ll give the order, Sire.”

He turned away and moved quietly among the guards, and one by one the lamps went out, and the darkness pressed close around the shrinking pool of light. Several of the men stirred restlessly, and a few glanced angrily at Rupert, but nobody said anything. Rupert was too tired and too worried to give a damn. After a while, the Champion came back to stand beside him.

“We have a problem, Sire. We’ve lost seven men since we entered the Darkwood.”

For a moment Rupert just looked at him, not understanding, and then his blood went cold, rushing through him like a chill wind. “Seven? Are you sure?”

The Champion nodded grimly. “There’s no trace of the men, their horses, or their equipment; no sign to show they were ever with us. They were taken quietly, one at a time, and nobody heard or saw a thing.”

Rupert swore harshly, and kicked at the dusty ground. If the demons had found them already … “From now on the men work in pairs; one cuts trail while the other guards his back. There can’t be more than a handful of demons out there, or they’d have attacked us openly by now. It’ll take them time to summon more. If we can move fast enough, we might get out of here alive yet.”

“With no sky or stars to guide us, we can’t be sure we’re cutting a straight path,” said the Champion slowly. “Press ahead too quickly, and we could end up travelling in circles.”

Rupert looked back the way they’d come. The sparse light showed only a few feet of the trail they’d cut. He shrugged angrily. “Sir Champion; the way we’re spread out we’d soon notice a bad curve in the trail, and we’re not going to be in the Darkwood long enough for a subtle curve to make much difference.”

And so the company moved on into the long night. The dark pressed close around them, muffling all sound and dimming the light they moved in. One by one the candle-stubs in the lanterns guttered and went out, and were replaced by oil lamps, and still the company cut their way through the decaying trees, with never a sign to show they were any nearer to the Darkwood’s far boundary. They lost no more men to the dark, but still Rupert could feel the pressure of watching eyes on his back. The scars on his face throbbed with remembered pain, and only his pride kept him from peering constantly into the darkness. His lantern guttered, and he scrabbled in his backpack for an oil lamp. And then everything hit them at once.

The earth boiled and writhed beneath the company’s feet as dozens of corpse-white arms thrust up out of the ground and snatched at the guardsmen’s legs, pulling them down to what lay waiting in the burrows under the earth. Long sticky strands of blood-red gossamer uncoiled from high in the rotting trees and lashed down to wrap themselves around the bewildered guards, dragging them with a horrid ease back up into the far branches of the trees, where the lamplight couldn’t reach. Blood ran down the treetrunks, and the guards’ screams carried clearly on the still air until they were suddenly cut off. Small scurrying creatures poured out of the darkness in their hundreds and swarmed all over the screaming horses, eating them alive.

Rupert and the Champion stood back-to-back, killing anything that came within reach of their weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, Rupert could see the unicorn rearing up again and again, shaking off the swarming creatures and pulping them under his flailing hooves. In the space of a few moments, a dozen guardsmen had been snatched from the trail, but even as Rupert howled his anger the trail before him erupted as a blood-spattered guard fought his way back out of the burrows. More guards followed him, and one dropped down from the branches overhead, looking eagerly around for something else to kill.

Dark twisted shapes came running and leaping out of the darkness, falling on the guards with fang and claw and glaring hungry eyes. The guards formed a defensive ring around the few surviving horses and the unicorn, and slowly fought the creatures back. Swords and axes gleamed brightly in the lamplight as they rose and fell. Blood flew through the air and ran thickly on the ground. Rupert swung his sword double-handed, grunting and growling with the effort of his blows. For every creature that fell before him, another rose to take its place, and Rupert grinned savagely as he cut them down. The darkness had finally given him an enemy he could fight, an enemy that could be faced and defeated. Rupert and the Champion and the guards strove against an enemy that outnumbered them ten to one, and still they wouldn’t give in to the dark. They stood their ground and fought side-by-side, and suddenly the creatures of the dark gave way before them, and faded back into the concealing shadows from which they’d come.

Rupert slowly lowered his sword and looked warily about him. No arms reached up from under the earth, no strands hung down from the trees, and the surrounding dark was still and silent. Scores of the little scurrying creatures lay crushed and broken on the ground, but all the horses were dead, including the Champion’s war horse. Its armor hadn’t been much protection after all. The Champion knelt beside his fallen steed and patted its shoulder gently, as though apologizing. Rupert looked quickly around for the unicorn, who moved slowly over to join him. Angry scratches bloodied the animal’s flanks, but otherwise he seemed largely unhurt. Rupert sighed wearily, and leaned against the unicorn’s side a moment before turning around to inspect his guards. Of the forty-six men who’d followed him into the Darkwood, only thirty remained. He’d lost seven men while cutting trail, and nine more during the battle. Rupert swore quietly and glared disgustedly at the blood-spattered sword in his hand. Another Rainbow might have saved his men, but the rainbow sword was just a sword, while the Darkwood was still dark.

The Champion came and stood beside him, leaning casually on his war axe. “It seems I was wrong, Rupert; demons do hunt in packs after all.”

Rupert smiled tiredly. “Nine men, sir Champion. We’ve lost nine more men.”

“We were lucky not to have lost a damned sight more. What are our chances of making a break for it?”

“Pretty low. We can’t be far from the boundary, but the demons would be on us before we could cut another foot of trail.”

“We could retreat back down the trail …”

The Champion’s voice fell away as demons moved forward out of the dark to crouch at the edge of the lamplight. Hundreds of the twisted creatures surrounded the company, and hundreds more moved unseen in the darkness beyond the narrow pool of light. The faint scurrying and slithering sounds carried clearly on the still air as the demon horde gathered.

“They’ve been waiting for us,” said Rupert bitterly. “They must have spotted us the moment we entered the Darkwood. We never had a chance of reaching the far boundary. We came all this way for nothing.”

“You’ve faced the demons before, and beaten them,” said the Champion.

“I had a magic sword then,” said Rupert. “I don’t have it any more.”

“Then we’ll just have to do it the hard way.” The Champion laughed quietly, and hefted his war axe. “Stand ready, guardsmen; this is where we earn our pay.”

“If we win, I want a raise,” said one of the guards, and the others chuckled briefly. Rupert wanted to laugh with them, but couldn’t. They were his men, and he’d failed them. He’d promised them a chance to save the Forest Land, and instead he’d led them to their deaths. He looked around at his guards, waiting patiently for his orders, and felt a fierce surge of pride for them. They’d taken the worst the Darkwood could send against them and thrown it back, and now they stood ready to do it again, even though they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Rupert grinned suddenly, proud tears stinging his eyes. Whatever happened next wasn’t important. The dark had tried to break him and his men, and the dark had failed, and in the end that was all that really mattered. Rupert looked out at the watching bloodred eyes, and laughed. For all their vast weight of numbers, the demons were still scared to come into the lamplight; they preferred to wait until the light ran out before attacking again. And then Rupert’s laughter broke off short as an idea struck him, an idea so obvious he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier.

“The lamps!” he yelled joyously, whirling on the startled Champion, “The bloody oil lamps! That’s our way out! Guards; take the oil cannisters and spread a circle of oil around us. Use the reserves first, but if that’s not enough start emptying lamps until it is. Well don’t just stand there; move it! We do have a chance, after all!”

The guards jumped to obey. Beyond the lamplight the demons stirred restlessly, and Rupert grinned so hard his jaws hurt.

“Get the idea, sir Champion? All we have to do is wait for the demons to attack, and then set light to the oil. The Darkwood trees might not burn, but the demons will. It won’t stop them for long, but it should hold them back while we cut our way out of here. We can’t be that far from the boundary.”

“It’s not much of a chance,” said the Champion carefully.

“I know,” Rupert admitted cheerfully, “But at least it’s a fighting chance.”

And then the demons surged forward out of the dark. Rupert yelled to the guards, and a dozen torches dipped into the oil. Bright yellow flames roared up, throwing back the dark. The first demons to reach the blazing oil plunged straight into the flames and were consumed in a moment, and behind them came more demons, throwing themselves at the leaping flames like moths at a lantern. They began to smother the fire by the sheer number of their bodies, and more creatures of the dark used the charred bodies of the fallen as stepping-stones from which to hurl themselves at Prince Rupert and his company.
A nice try
, thought Rupert resignedly as he cut down the first demon to reach him,
but not good enough.
He realized he was going to die, and was vaguely surprised to find he felt more annoyed than anything. There were so many things he’d intended to do, and now never would. He’d never even told Julia that he loved her. He could feel her favor beneath his jerkin, pressing lightly against his heart. The demons came swarming out of the darkness, and Rupert raised his sword and stepped forward to meet them.

But even as the demons pressed eagerly forward, the flames leapt suddenly higher. The oil had reached the surrounding trees, which caught alight and blazed like torches. Rupert backed away from the searing heat, and his men moved back with him. The demons slowed to a halt, confused and uncertain. Rupert stepped back another pace, and a blinding light filled his eyes. For a moment he thought the flames had overtaken him, but all around him he could hear his men crying out in joy and relief. Rupert knuckled at his watering eyes and laughed breathlessly. They were safe. They’d reached the boundary of the Darkwood.

His sight quickly returned. It was late afternoon, shading into evening. Rupert looked blankly at the sinking sun. When he’d led his company into the Darkwood, it had been barely midday.

Time moves differently in the Darkwood.

Rupert swallowed dryly, and watched the last of his guards stumble out of the darkness and into the light. The demons didn’t follow. Rupert couldn’t see past the Darkwood boundary, but he knew the demons were there, watching. He turned his back on them and grinned at his men, and only then did he realize how small his company of guards had become. He counted them slowly. Twenty-five. Twenty-five men out of fifty. Rupert looked away. He felt sick.

“Don’t take it so hard,” said the Champion.

“Why not?” said Rupert bitterly. “Half my men are dead. Some leader I turned out to be.”

“You’ve not done so badly. Given the odds we faced, it’s a wonder any of us survived. If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, we’d all have been dead long before we could reach the boundary. All right, you lost half your men, but you saved the other half. No man could have done more. All in all, I’m quite pleased with you, Rupert. I’ll make a Prince of you yet.”

Rupert looked at the Champion warily. “I’m just a second son, remember?”

“I remember,” said the Champion. He turned away to stare at the Darkwood boundary. “We can’t hope to fight our way back through the darkness, but there isn’t time to go round it. One way or another, we have to convince the High Warlock to return with us.”

Rupert nodded tiredly. “Get the men ready to move out, sir Champion. One more mile, and then perhaps we can rest for a while.”

“Rest?” said the Champion. “At the Dark Tower?”

“Right,” said the unicorn, moving in beside them. “From what I’ve heard of this Warlock, we might have been safer in the Darkwood. Just how powerful is the High Warlock anyway?”

“Hopefully, powerful enough to stop the demons in their tracks and banish the darkness,” said Rupert.

“But how far can we trust him?”

“About as far as you can spit into the wind.”

“Great,” said the unicorn. “Absolutely bloody wonderful. Why don’t we just all kill ourselves now, and get it over with quickly?”

“Come on,” said Rupert affectionately, taking the unicorn’s reins in his hands. “You’ll feel better once we’re moving.”

“Don’t put money on it,” growled the unicorn. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rupert shrugged. “Legends don’t impress me as much as they used to. The High Warlock left the Court when I was very young, but I can still remember the wonderful fireworks he made for my fifth birthday party. The rockets that flared against the night, and the Catherine wheels that looked like they’d spin forever. He told me stories, and tried to teach me card tricks. You were at Court even then, sir Champion; you must have known him. What was he really like?”