Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (6 page)

“That’s not honorable,” said the Princess flatly.

“Oh yes it is,” said the dragon.

“You keep out of this,” snapped the Princess.

“Gladly,” said the dragon.

“Who’s side are you on?” demanded Rupert, feeling he needed all the help he could get.

“Anybody’s who’ll rescue me from this Princess,” said the dragon feelingly.

The Princess kicked him.

Rupert closed his eyes a moment. When he got back to Court, he intended to give the minstrels some explicit instructions on how to sing their songs. This sort of thing needed to be pointed up more. He coughed politely, and the Princess swung angrily back to face him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Julia. Princess Julia of Hillsdown.”

“Well, Princess Julia, you have two choices. Come back to my Castle with me and the dragon, or stay here on your own.”

“You can’t leave me here,” said the Princess. “That wouldn’t be honorable.”

“Watch me,” said Rupert.

Julia blinked, and then peered at the dragon, who was staring at the cavern ceiling and blowing different colored smoke rings from his nostrils.

“You wouldn’t leave me here alone. Would you?”

The dragon grinned widely, his many teeth gleaming crimson in the firelight.

Julia glared at him. “You wait,” she muttered ominously.

“Can we make a start now, please?” asked Rupert. “My unicorn’s only going to wait two days for me to return.”

“You ride a unicorn?” asked the dragon. Rupert glanced at the Princess, and felt his face grow hot.

“It’s not easy being a Prince. It’s to do with Bloodlines; the last thing any dynasty needs is bastard pretenders to the throne popping up all over the place. So unmarried royalty have to be kept … pure.”

“Right,” said the Princess. “That’s why the elders sent me up here.”

The dragon coughed tactfully. “Is it far to your Castle, Rupert?”

Rupert started to answer, and then had to grab Julia’s arm for support as his head suddenly started to swim. His legs trembled violently, and he sat down quickly to avoid falling.

“What’s the matter?” asked Julia, as she helped Rupert lower himself to the cavern floor.

“Just need a bit of a rest,” he muttered groggily, passing a shaking hand across his aching temples. “Hot in here. I’ll be all right in a minute.”

The dragon regarded the Prince narrowly. “Rupert; how did you get up the mountain?”

“Followed the trail until the scree blocked it. Then I sent my unicorn back, crossed the scree, and used the stairway.”

“You came all that way on foot? In this weather?” Julia looked at Rupert with new respect. “I came in mid-summer. I had an escort of seven guards and a pack mule, and it still took us the best part of four days to manage it.” She took his battered hands in hers, and winced. “You’re so cold you can’t even feel your wounds, can you? You must be frozen to the bone; it’s a wonder you were still on your feet.”

Rupert shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m all right. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Julia and the dragon exchanged a glance.

“Sure,” said the dragon. “Look, why don’t you warm yourself at the fire a while, and then I’ll fly you both down. It’s a lovely day for flying.”

“Sure,” said Rupert drowsily. “Lovely day … for flying.” His chin sank slowly forward onto his chest, and sleep rolled over him like a tide. The Princess lowered him gently to the floor, wrapped furs around him, and then washed and bandaged his hands. Rupert knew nothing of this, but for the first time since leaving the Darkwood, his rest was free of nightmares.

*      *      *

A few hours’ sleep did much to restore him, and all too soon Rupert found himself perched awkwardly on the dragon’s shoulders, hugging the creature’s neck like he’d never let go. The Princess Julia was sitting right behind Rupert, and holding him just as tightly, if not more so.

“I hate heights,” she confided in a small voice.

“You’re not alone,” Rupert assured her. He looked around at the dark clouds filling the sky, and shivered as a bitter wind swept over the narrow ledge outside the cave mouth. “If this is a good day for flying, I’d hate to see a bad one.”

“Ready?” asked the dragon, flexing his wings eagerly.

“Uh …” said Rupert.

“Then hold tight,” called the dragon, and running quickly forward, he threw himself off the ledge and fell like a stone. The wind whistled past them as they hurtled down, and Rupert squeezed his eyes shut. And then the breath was knocked from him as the dragon suddenly spread his wings, and with a series of bone-shuddering jolts, the fall quickly became a controlled glide. After a while, Rupert cautiously opened his eyes and peered past the dragon’s neck to take in the view. He then rather wished he hadn’t. The cultivated fields far below lay stretched out like a pastel-shaded patchwork quilt. The Forest lay to the North, with the Darkwood clearly visible, like a canker feeding on the body of which it was a part. Rupert swallowed with a suddenly dry mouth as the base of the mountain rushed up to meet him at harrowing speed. On the whole, he just might have preferred to walk down after all. The dragon’s massive wings beat strongly to either side of him, and then stretched to their full extent as the creature soared in to a slightly bumpy landing that jarred every bone in Rupert’s body. The dragon folded his wings and looked about him.

“There you are. Wasn’t that exciting?”

“Exciting,” said Rupert.

“Does you good to feel the wind rushing past you,” said the dragon. “Uh … you can let go of me and get down now, you know.”

“We’re getting used to the idea slowly,” said Julia. “My stomach still thinks it’s up in the clouds somewhere.”

She carefully unwrapped her arms from Rupert, and then the two of them helped each other down from the dragon’s back. The solid earth beneath their feet had never seemed so welcome or so comforting. The dragon had brought them to the start of the mountain trail, and Rupert looked around him. As he’d expected, there was no sign of the unicorn.

“Unicorn! If you’re not back here by the time I count ten I’ll turn you over to the Royal Zoo to give rides to children!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” said a shocked voice from behind a nearby outcropping of rock.

“Don’t put money on it,” Rupert growled.

There was a pause, and then the unicorn stuck his head out from behind the rock and smiled ingratiatingly. “Welcome back, Sire. Who are your friends?”

“This is the Princess Julia. I rescued her.”

“Ha!” said the Princess, loudly.

“And this is a dragon. He’s coming back with us to the Castle.”

The unicorn disappeared behind the rock again.

“Unicorn, either you come out or I’ll send the dragon after you. Even worse, I might send the Princess after you.”

Julia kicked him in the ankle. Rupert smiled determinedly, and vowed to do something unpleasant to the first minstrel he met singing of the joys of adventuring. The unicorn trotted reluctantly into view, halting a safe distance away from the dragon.

“Oh, you’ve decided to join us, have you?” asked Rupert.

“Only under protest.”

“He does everything under protest,” Rupert explained to the Princess.

“I heard that!” The unicorn stared unhappily at the dragon. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that thing is a vegetarian?”

The dragon smiled. His pointed teeth gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

“I thought not,” said the unicorn.

The Darkwood brooded before them, darkness enveloping rotting trees in a starless night that had never known a moon. The path Rupert had cut through the briar lay open before him, and he studied the narrow gap with horrid fascination, cold sweat beading his brow. Through all the many weeks it had taken him to reach Dragonslair mountain and return, he’d been unable to shake off the gut-deep fear the darkness had imposed on him. He shivered suddenly as the chill breeze drifting from the decaying trees brought to him the familiar stench of corruption. His hand dropped to his swordhilt as though searching for some kind of comfort, or courage. His breathing grew harsh and unsteady as the horror mounted within him.

Not again. Please, not again.

“The Darkwood,” said Princess Julia, her voice tinged with awe. “I thought it was just a legend, a tale to frighten children on dark nights. It smells like something died in there. Are you sure we have to pass through it to reach the Forest Kingdom?”

Rupert nodded briefly, afraid that if he tried to speak his voice would betray how much the mere sight of the darkness unnerved him. They had to pass through the Darkwood. There was no other way. But still he hesitated, standing stiffly beside the unicorn, unable to make the slightest move toward entering the long night that had tested his soul and found it wanting.

“I suppose I could fly you and Julia over,” said the dragon slowly, “But that would mean abandoning the unicorn.”

“No,” said Rupert immediately. “I won’t do that.”

“Thanks,” said the unicorn.

Rupert nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the never-ending darkness.

“Come on,” said the Princess finally. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be out the other side.” She looked at Rupert expectantly.

“I can’t,” he said helplessly.

“What’s the matter?” snapped the Princess. “Afraid of the dark?”

“Yes,” said Rupert softly. “Oh yes.”

Julia stared at him in amazement, taking in his pale face and trembling hands.

“You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious. Afraid of the
dark?
”

“Shut up,” said the unicorn. “You don’t understand.”

“I think perhaps I do,” said the dragon. His great golden eyes studied the darkness warily. “The Darkwood was old when I was young, Julia. Legend claims it has always been here, and always will; darkness made manifest upon the earth. For any who dare to enter, there are dangers for both body and soul.” The dragon stared into the darkness a while, and then looked away uneasily. “What happened to you in the Darkwood, Rupert?”

Rupert struggled for words that could express the true horror of the darkness, but there were no words. He simply knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that if he entered the Darkwood again he would die or go mad. With an effort that shook him, Rupert tore his gaze away from the darkness. He’d faced the Darkwood once; he could do it again. Rupert clung to the thought desperately. The long night had marked him, but it hadn’t broken him. Perhaps this time the journey would be easier to bear. He had food and water and companions. There was firewood for torches.

If I turn back now, I’ll always be afraid of the dark.

Rupert took a deep, shuddering breath and let it go.

“Rupert,” said the dragon, “What happened to you in the Darkwood?”

“Nothing,” said Rupert hoarsely. “Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

He urged the unicorn forward, but the animal hesitated, and looked back at him.

“Rupert; you don’t have to do this …”

“Move, damn you,” Rupert whispered, and the unicorn followed him silently into the Darkwood, Julia followed the unicorn, and the dragon brought up the rear, the needle-thorned briar rattling vainly against his armored hide.

Night slammed down as they crossed the Darkwood’s boundary, and Rupert bit his lip to keep from crying out as the darkness swept over him. The familiar country sounds of bird and beast and wind were gone, replaced by a still, sullen silence. Out in the dark, demons were watching. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. All his instincts shrieked for him to light a torch, but he dared not. Light would attract the demons, and the surrounding briar made his party a sitting target. He hurried forward, wincing as thorns stung his outstretched hands. The trail seemed narrower than he remembered, but the briar finally fell away, and Rupert whispered for the party to stop a moment. He fumbled the tinderbox from his backpack, and after several false starts, he lit a single torch. The dancing flame seemed strangely subdued, as though the Darkwood begrudged even that much light within its domain. Decaying trees lined the narrow path, gnarled and misshapen. Their branches held no leaves, and gaping cracks revealed rotten hearts, but Rupert knew with horrid certainty that somehow they were still alive.

“Rupert …” said Julia.

“Later,” he said roughly. “Let’s go.”

The company moved slowly along the twisting trail in their little pool of light, heading into the heart of the darkness.

They hadn’t been moving long before the first demon found them. Crooked and malformed, it crouched at the edge of the torch’s light, watching from the shadows with blood-red eyes. Rupert drew his sword, and the demon disappeared silently back into the darkness.

“What the hell was that?” whispered Julia.

“Demon,” said Rupert shortly. The scars on his face throbbed with remembered pain. He handed Julia the torch and moved forward to stare about him. Faint shuffling sounds hovered on the edge of his hearing, and then, slowly, the torchlight showed him glimpses of twisted, misshapen creatures that crouched and scurried and slithered both before and behind the company. Glowing eyes stared unblinkingly from the shadows of the rotting trees. Rupert hefted his sword, but the cold steel had lost all power to comfort him.

“It’s not possible,” he said numbly. “Demons never hunt in packs. Everyone knows that.”

“Obviously these demons don’t,” said the dragon. “Now get back here, please. You’re a little too far from the rest of us for my liking.”

Rupert fell back to join the company. The demons pressed closer still.

“Why don’t they attack?” said Julia quietly.

“Don’t give them ideas,” muttered the unicorn. “Maybe they just can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to walk into such an obvious trap. I can’t believe it and I’m doing it.”

“They’re afraid of the dragon,” said Rupert.

“How very sensible of them,” said the dragon.

Rupert tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. It took all his self-control not to strike out blindly at the gathering demons. Fear writhed in his gut and trembled in his arms, but he wouldn’t give in to it. Not yet. Unlike the darkness, the demons could be fought. He took a firm grip on his sword, and stepped forward. The demons faded back into the darkness and were gone. Julia sighed slowly in relief, and the torchlight was suddenly unsteady as she finally allowed her hands to shake. Rupert glared about him into the unresponsive darkness, angry that the demons had backed away from a confrontation, denying him the comfort and release of action. He slammed his sword back into its scabbard, and led the company on into the endless night.