Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (58 page)

“Rupert …”

“Yes?”

“You once asked me my name. I told you then I’d sworn never to use my name until I was free again, but now … well, it seems to me that if I don’t tell you now, there might not be another chance.”

Rupert shifted uncomfortably under the unicorn’s steady gaze. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

“You’re my friend,” said the unicorn. “My name is Breeze.”

Rupert got to his feet, and hugged the unicorn’s neck tightly. “Breeze,” he said, and then had to stop. When he felt he could trust his voice again, he let go of the unicorn and stepped back a pace so that he could meet the unicorn’s eyes. “Breeze, if by some miracle we actually survive this mess, you’re free. I swear it, by Blood and Stone. I’ll check the records to find which valley you were taken from originally; some of your old herd might still be there. Perhaps we could … go and look for them. Together.”

“Yeah,” said Breeze. “I’d like that, Rupert.”

“You don’t believe we’re going to survive this one, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“All right, then. By the authority vested in me, by blood and kin, by Blood and Stone, I hereby free the unicorn named Breeze from any and all obligations to me, and to my family. Okay, Breeze; that’s it. You are now a one hundred percent independent individual. Or as near as any of us ever get to it.”

“Is that all there is to it?”

“What did you expect; a fanfare of trumpets? Or isn’t my word good enough for you?”

“Your word has always been good with me, Rupert. But is it legal?”

“Of course. I am a Prince, after all.”

“I had noticed,” said the unicorn dryly. “Free.
Free
. I always thought I’d feel different.”

“How do you feel?”

“Strange. Naked. I don’t know yet.”

“Well, if nothing else, you don’t have to go back into the Darkwood again. I freed you from all obligations, remember?”

“You wouldn’t last five minutes without me.”

“That’s not the point, Breeze.”

“Yes, it is,” said the unicorn firmly. “I could have left you any time in the past. You gave me enough chances. When all is said and done, I stayed with you because you were my friend, and you needed me. No other reason. So let’s have no more nonsense about you going back into the Darkwood without me. We’re a team, and don’t you forget it.”

“Still,” said Rupert. “You are officially free now. I’ve said the words.”

“Don’t we need a witness?”

“You have one,” said the Champion.

Rupert and the unicorn looked quickly round, to find the Champion standing in the stable doorway. He inclined his head slightly to Rupert, who bowed warily in return. The Champion was wearing full plate armor. The burnished steel gleamed coldly under the lanternlight, its entire surface etched and engraved with heraldic signs and ancient magical wards. He carried a featureless steel helm under his arm, and his huge hands were sheathed in massive steel gauntlets. He looked impressive, menacing, and totally unstoppable.

“Sir Champion,” said Rupert steadily. “Is it time to go?”

“Soon, Sire. The King tells me you refused to bear one of the Infernal Devices when it was offered to you.”

“That’s right.”

“It was your duty to take the sword.”

“My duty is to the Land, sir Champion. And those cursed swords are so much a threat to the Forest as the Darkwood itself.”

The Champion nodded slowly. “You may well be right, Sire. But then, I’ve never had much use for magic, myself.”

Rupert looked sharply at the Champion. He seemed almost on the point of telling Rupert something; something important.

“Have you seen the Warlock?” asked the Champion suddenly.

“Yes,” said Rupert. “We talked awhile.”

“He’s drunk again.”

“I’ve never known him when he wasn’t.”

“I have,” said the Champion. “But that was a long time ago.” He leaned back against the stable wall, his cold dark eyes staring past Rupert and into memory. “He was impressive, then. Could have been a Sorcerer Supreme. Could have been the legend everybody said he was. He could have been the greatest hero this Land has ever known.”

Rupert listened carefully. There was hatred and bitterness in the Champion’s voice, but underlying all of that … something else. Something that might have been betrayal.

“Sir Champion; why did the High Warlock leave the Castle after my mother died?”

“He could have saved her. If he’d been sober. If he’d been there.” Rage twisted the Champion’s face, and Rupert wanted to look away. It seemed almost indecent to see such naked emotions in the face of a man who normally showed such control. “The Warlock was why I came to Forest Castle, Rupert. He was famous, and I wanted to be part of that fame, that legend. And so I came to serve your father, as his Champion.

“That’s when I learned the truth about the legendary High Warlock. Your mother was a great beauty, Rupert. Everybody said so. When she fell ill that Summer, all the Land prayed for her recovery. The Warlock was supposed to be with her, that afternoon. Instead, he left her by herself, and went off somewhere, drinking. By the time we found him and dragged him back, it was too late.

“And then, he ran away. He ran away! I all but worshipped that man, Rupert; I believed in him. And he turned out to be nothing but a drunk and a coward. I could have forgiven him many things, but not that. Never that. He let your mother die, and then he ran away rather than face what he’d done.

“And now he’s back, and once again all our fates rest in his trembling hands. After all these years, despite everything I’ve achieved as Champion, the Land’s destiny will be decided not by heroes and warriors and cold clean steel, but by one drunken coward and his magic!”

The Champion turned suddenly and stalked out of the stables, his hands curled into massive impotent fists at his sides. Rupert watched him disappear back into the waiting crowd. A memory came to Rupert, of the two of them standing together on a hill, looking down over the Coppertown pit. Of the Champion telling him how he’d run away from the mines as a small child, and how he would never run from anything, ever again.

Julia elbowed her way through the growing crowd, ignoring the glares and muttered curses of those she left in her wake. It had started out as a thoroughly rotten day, and it showed no signs of improving in its last few hours. She stopped and looked about her, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of Rupert somewhere in the courtyard, but he was nowhere to be seen. Julia sighed, and once again headed for the far corner where her troop of fighting women were waiting for her. She’d promised to lead them through one last weapons drill before the battle, not that it would make much difference. They’d come on well, much better than she’d expected; and certainly a great deal better than the Castle guards had ever expected. A few more months training, and they would have been good enough to … Julia smiled sourly. They didn’t have a few more months, or even a few hours. The gates would open at dawn, and shortly after that, her women would either be warriors, or dead.

Julia’s hand tightened round the pommel of her sword till her knuckles ached. So much to do, and never enough time. Rupert had to be here somewhere, but nobody had seen him for ages. It was as though he’d fallen off the face of the earth. She had to find him before the battle began, she had to; but her women were waiting for her. Julia’s mind worked frantically as she plunged on through the crowd, searching desperately for a way out of her dilemma, and then a sudden calm fell across her as she realized there was no way out. Her women needed her, and she’d given them her word that she’d be there. Rupert would have understood. He knew a lot about duty.

The crowd suddenly broke apart before her, and Julia stumbled to a halt as King John stepped out of the crowd to block her path. Harald stood at the King’s side, carrying a huge sheathed longsword in his arms as though it was both infinitely precious and utterly repellent. Julia eyed Harald and the King warily as they bowed to her. They were being polite and formal, which could only mean that they were up to something. She watched their faces change as they realized she was no longer wearing formal Court robes, and smiled politely at them, daring them to say anything. She’d had to search half the Castle laundry to find the sensible, hard-wearing clothes she’d worn in the Forest during her time with Rupert, but it had been worth it. For the first time in months, she actually felt comfortable.

Besides; she couldn’t use a sword properly while wearing formal robes.

“Princess Julia,” said the King slowly, “Your garments are hardly suitable for a Lady of the Court.”

“Probably not,” said Julia. “But they’re quite suitable for a battle. If you think I’m going out to fight demons wearing high heels and a long flowing gown, you’re crazy. Now, did you have something in particular you wanted to say to me, or were you just indulging in a little fashion criticism?”

“We have something for you,” said Harald.

“Oh yes?” said Julia suspiciously. “And what might that be?”

“A sword,” said Harald. “It’s called Wolfsbane.”

He held out to her the long silver scabbard he was carrying, and Julia looked at it for a long moment before finally taking it from him. Despite its seven feet and more in length, the sword seemed practically weightless in her hands. The scabbard was covered in ancient, deeply etched runes that teased her eyes with hints of meaning.
I don’t like this sword
, thought Julia suddenly.
It feels … unhealthy
. She started to hand the sword back to Harald, and then stopped as she realized both he and King John were wearing similar swords strapped to their backs. The long leather-bound hilts peered over their shoulders like watchful eyes. And that was when Julia remembered the name Wolfsbane.

“This is one of the Infernal Devices,” she said slowly. “One of the most powerful and evil swords ever created. And you expect me to use this?”

“They’re our only hope now,” said the King. “We need their power.”

“Wait a minute,” said Julia suspiciously, “Why are you offering me this sword, and not Rupert?”

“He didn’t want it,” said Harald.

“Why not?”

Harald smiled slightly. “Perhaps he was afraid of its power.”

“Perhaps,” said Julia, “he had reason to be.”

The King shifted uncomfortably as Julia turned her searching gaze on him. “We did offer him the blade, Julia, but he refused to take it. He said … he said he didn’t trust magic swords anymore. Do you understand what he meant by that?”

Julia frowned, and worried her lower lip between her teeth. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t.” She hefted Wolfsbane in her hand, and made as though to draw it. Harald and the King both sucked in a sudden breath, and stepped back a pace.

“I wouldn’t,” said King John quickly. “You might unleash the sword’s attribute.”

Julia studied the sheathed sword, and frowned thoughtfully. “Three Infernal Devices, each with a different attribute. I remember the stories my father told me, when I was very young. Of three magic swords, and the evil and destruction they caused before they could be brought under control. Rockbreaker. Flarebright. Wolfsbane. I never thought I’d hold a legend in my hand. What is Wolfsbane’s attribute? What does it do?”

“We’re not actually sure,” said the King. “It’s been so long since anyone dared draw any of the blades …”

“Great,” said Julia. “Just great. All right; what do you know about the Infernal Devices?”

“They like blood,” said Harald quietly. “And they love to kill.”

Julia looked at him sharply. There had been something in Harald’s voice … something that might have been fear, or loathing …

“But why me?” she said suddenly. “All right, Rupert wouldn’t take the sword, but why does it have to be me? Why not the Champion, or the Astrologer, or …”

“You’re of Royal blood,” said the King.

Julia smiled wryly. “Of course. A sword like this could make any man a King; and there’s no one else you can trust with that kind of power.”

“That’s right,” said the King. “No one, but you.”

“And I’ll bet that sticks in your craw something fierce,” said Julia. “A woman with a sword, what is the world coming to? All right; I’ll use Wolfsbane. But only if I have to. I don’t trust magic swords, either.”

She slung the scabbarded sword over her left shoulder, and buckled it securely into place. Harald moved forward as though to help, but stopped short when Julia fixed him with a sardonic eye.

“Have either of you seen Rupert around?” she asked, her voice carefully casual.

“I’ve no doubt he’s here somewhere,” said the King. “But I haven’t seen him since Darius died.”

“Yeah, right,” said Julia. “I heard about that. Good to know Darius finally got what was coming to him.”

“Quite,” said Harald. “I haven’t seen Rupert at all, but then, he hasn’t had much to say to me since I told him he was still going to be best man at your wedding to me.”

Julia looked at him, and then at the King. “You can’t leave him alone, can you? Even now, you can’t leave him any peace, or hope of peace. You’re beneath contempt, both of you. Get out of my sight.”

“Julia …” said the King.

“Get away from me, damn your eyes!”

King John bowed stiffly to her, and turned and walked away. Harald opened his mouth to say something. Julia rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. Harald smiled politely, and followed his father into the crowd. Julia watched him go, and was surprised to find herself shaking with the strength of her emotions. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the freezing courtyard air, and slowly some of her calm came back to her.
Rupert, my dear … what are we going to do
? She shook her head slowly, and then started as a long, leather-wrapped swordhilt suddenly appeared at the corner of her eye. Julia scowled, and looked away. Wolfsbane was a solid, uncomfortable presence at her back, for all its lightness, and she wasn’t at all sure she’d done the right thing in accepting it. She felt happier with the blade she knew, hanging in its usual place at her left hip; the sword Rupert had given her, long ago, in a Darkwood clearing when all had seemed lost …