Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (63 page)

“I didn’t like what it was doing to me,” said Julia, and turned her back on the broken earth.

King John looked back at what remained of his army, huddled together at the edge of the moat behind their barricade of piled-up bodies. Out in the darkness, he could hear the first faint stirrings of the returning demon hoard. He stared out into the endless night, and a soft blue glow appeared, deep in the heart of the darkness, followed by another, and another, and another. King John hefted Rockbreaker in his hand, and a sudden temptation ran through him, to unleash all the sword’s power in one final gesture that would destroy the Forest and everything in it. The moment passed, and he shook his head wearily. Perhaps it would come to that, and nothing would remain to him but to avenge the Land’s destruction, but not yet. He would wait, until there was no more hope, and the Castle had fallen, and then … he would make his decision. The demons were getting closer. The King turned back to his waiting army.

“Retreat!” he called harshly. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Stand ready, the gatehouse! Lower the drawbridge!”

There was a distant clanking of chains and counterweights from the Keep, and the drawbridge slowly lowered itself over the moat. Tired, broken and defeated, the survivors of the last army of the Forest Land streamed across the drawbridge as fast as their wounds and exhaustion would allow. Their banners lay torn and bloodied beneath the bodies of the dead, and there was no hope left in them. Harald and King John stood together by the drawbridge, giving what comfort and encouragement they could to the warriors who shambled past them. They had led the army out to battle, and they would be the last to retreat; it was expected of them. Rupert and Julia stood to one side, their arms around each other, their eyes dull with a bone-deep weariness. The Champion stood alone a few yards from the drawbridge, staring out into the dark. His face was calm and cold, and though his armor was caked with blood, his back was still straight and his head unbowed.

There was a sudden roaring in the darkness close at hand, and the moat monster crashed out of the shadows, surrounded by leaping, clawing demons. The monster fought savagely, despite his many wounds, but there were just too many demons, even for him. He dragged himself across the broken earth and threw himself into the moat. The ice cracked open under his weight, and then froze over behind him as he disappeared back into the dark waters. He took a dozen demons with him, and none of them returned to the surface.

More demons came pouring out of the darkness, and the few men and women still on the drawbridge panicked, and fled into the Castle. Harald and the King went after them, carefully not running, followed by Rupert and Julia. The Champion stood alone at the edge of the drawbridge, his war axe in his hands. The demon horde came streaming out of the long night, the vile blue moonlight shimmering on their fangs and claws. The Champion smiled slightly and waited for them to come to him.

The demons threw themselves at him, and he stood them off easily, sweeping his axe in wide killing arcs that tore through flesh and bone alike. The demons tried to go around him, only to fall and scramble helplessly on the moat’s ice. The drawbridge was the only way into the Castle, and they had to get past the Champion first. The demons came boiling up out of the shadows in a never-ending stream, but still the Champion stood his ground, and would not retreat.

Rupert stopped at the inner gates, and looked back. The banks of the moat were thick with demons, and a small knot of dark, twisted figures were swarming around the beleaguered Champion. He was fighting well and strongly, but it was clearly only a matter of time before the demons would drag him down. Rupert started forward, and Harald was suddenly at his side.

“What’s happening out there?”

Rupert pointed wordlessly, and Harald turned quickly away to shout orders to the gatehouse. Rupert moved out into the Keep.

“Sir Champion!” he yelled desperately. “We’re all in! Get back here, dammit; they’re raising the drawbridge!”

The Champion didn’t hear him. The demons fell again and again under his axe, and there were always more. It felt good to be fighting, to be proving himself as Champion, to be killing those who threatened the Realm. The demons came at him without end, and he met them with cold steel and a colder smile. He knew he was going to die, and he didn’t care at all. The Castle needed him, and that was enough. The huge axe was weightless in his hands, and the demons fell before it like over-ripe wheat. Demon blood flew on the air, and the drawbridge became slippery with gore and offal. The Champion fought on, one man against an army, and the army slowed and was stopped.

But in the end he was only one man, and no man can stand against an army for long. The demons tore at him again and again, ripping through his armor. He never felt the wounds, or the blood that streamed down his sides and legs. The Castle was under his protection, and he wouldn’t turn and run.

He wouldn’t run away.

The demons surged forward, and pulled him down. He never felt the claws that tore out his throat, and he died still trying to swing his axe. The demons poured over his body, and raced across the drawbridge toward the Keep.

There’s no time to lower the portcullis
, thought Rupert suddenly,
and the demons will be here before they can close and bar the gates … unless somebody stops them
…

He ran through the Keep to meet the demons, sword in hand. All he had to do was hold them back for a few minutes, and then the gates would be securely shut. He reached the base of the drawbridge, and the first few demons jumped him. He cut them down with swift, savage strokes.
Why me?
he thought bitterly.
Why does it always have to be me
? And then he was facing the main body of the demons, and they came to a sudden halt as he blocked their way, hacking about him with his sword.

“Shut the gates!” he screamed hoarsely. “Shut the bloody gates!”

The demons ripped and tore at him, and he sobbed aloud at the pain, but still he held the demons back. A few more minutes; just hold them off for a few more minutes.
Julia, my love; if only we’d had more time together …
And then the demons dragged him down, and he fell beneath them, still clinging to his sword.

In the courtyard, Harald and a handful of men-at-arms stood ready to slam home the heavy steel bolts, once the main windlass had closed the gates. Julia leaned against the inner South wall, and stared Wearily about her.

“Rupert? Where are you, Rupert?”

She straightened up when she realized he wasn’t with her anymore, and glanced quickly around the packed courtyard. She couldn’t see him anywhere, and a sudden cold panic seized her heart. Julia pushed herself away from the wall, and started toward Harald. He’d know where Rupert was. And then she stopped dead as she glanced between the slowly closing gates, and saw Rupert brought down by the demons. Julia ran over to Harald, and grabbed at his arm.

“Stop the gates! Rupert’s still out there!”

“He’s already dead,” said Harald harshly. “He died buying us the time we needed to close these gates. Now either help us with these bolts or get out of the way.”

“You wanted him to die out there!” screamed Julia, and snatching her old sword from its scabbard, she ran unsteadily between the closing doors, and out into the Keep. She heard running feet behind her, and glanced back to see King John close on her heels, Rockbreaker in his hands. They just had time to share a brief smile, and then they were among the demons. The first few fell easily to Julia’s rage, and those she missed or never saw were no match for Rockbreaker. Julia swung her sword with both hands, and a demon folded forward in midair, trying in vain to stuff its guts back into the wide slash in its belly. It fell squirming to the ground, and Julia kicked it out of her way as she fought her way down the narrow stone tunnel to the place where Rupert had fallen. The King was at her side, Rockbreaker cutting a wide swathe through the demonkind, but Julia could tell he was at the last of his strength. They forced the demons back to the drawbridge, step by step, and then Julia and the King slammed into a small knot of struggling demons. The creatures fell away as Julia and the King pressed forward, and a tall blood-soaked figure surged to his feet, scattering the demons in all directions. He swayed unsteadily and one arm hung limply at his side, but he was still swinging his sword. He wiped away some of the blood that masked his face, and grinned crookedly at Julia.

“What kept you?” asked Rupert, cutting down a demon that tried to get between them.

Julia laughed, and moved in beside him, swinging her sword with fierce abandon. The demons came at them in never-ending numbers as Rupert and Julia and the King retreated back through the Keep, a step at a time. Blood splashed against the stone walls, and streamed along the ground. Julia didn’t look back at the Castle gates. She didn’t think they’d actually slam the gates on their own King, but if they had, she didn’t want to know about it. As long as there was still hope, she could go on fighting.
There are worse ways to die than fighting to save the one you love
, she thought suddenly, and realized she was grinning crazily even as tears ran down her cheeks.
Rupert, my Rupert; we’ve gone through too much together for me to lose you now.

The demons surged forward, and Rupert and Julia and King John met them with their swords.

Balefire blazed suddenly against the darkness, scattering the demons as it exploded among them. Lightning jumped and crackled the length of the Keep, striking down those demons in its path. Rupert looked back at the gates, and saw a brightly glowing figure standing alone in the narrow gap between the two motionless doors. The glare was so blinding Rupert had to look away, but he knew who it was. He could feel the High Magic all around him, beating strongly on the night. Julia took him by his good arm, and began hurrying him back toward the gates.

“The Champion,” he said thickly.

“He’s dead, lad,” said the King, moving in close on Rupert’s other side. “The demons didn’t leave enough of him to bury.”

Together, Julia and the King half-led and half-carried Rupert back to the open gates, while the glowing figure’s balefire threw back the demon horde again and again. A grimy smoke rose from the growing pile of demon dead that lay blocking the entrance to the Keep. Julia and the King hustled Rupert through the gates and into the courtyard. The glowing figure stepped back to join them, and the huge oaken doors finally slammed together. Harald and the men-at-arms pushed home the steel bolts, and began pulling barricades into position.

Rupert collapsed by the inner East wall, and Julia hadn’t the strength to hold onto him. He stretched out full length on his back on the cobbles, and blood welled steadily out from beneath him. Julia sank down at his side, cradled his head in her lap, and gave herself up to what few tears she had left. King John sat with his back to the inner wall, his head hanging wearily down. Rockbreaker lay unnoticed by his side. The glowing figure at the gates moved slowly toward them, his light dying quickly away to reveal the High Warlock. His face was drawn with fatigue, and his hair was entirely gray.

Outside, the demons hammered on the closed gates till they sounded like some huge, unearthly drum.

R
upert lay on his back in the courtyard and wondered who was crying. The tear-choked voice seemed somehow familiar as it called his name, but he couldn’t quite place it. He wanted to comfort whoever it was, but he didn’t know how, and after a while the tears died away. Rupert knew he was in the courtyard, he could feel rough stone cobbles pressing into his back, but everything else seemed vague and far away. He didn’t seem to hurt much anymore, and for a moment that worried him; but only for a moment. There was blood on his face and in his eyes, and when he tried to wipe it away, his hands wouldn’t obey him. Someone was tugging at his chain mail, and the voice was calling his name again, but he didn’t respond. It didn’t seem important, and he was tired, so very tired.

Julia tried to remove Rupert’s mail vest so that she could get at his wounds, but the buckles were slippery with blood, and she was so tired she couldn’t even see straight any more. She struggled stubbornly with the buckles, cursing her clumsy fingers. Rupert hadn’t moved since he collapsed, and the more Julia examined him, the more frightened she became. There was so much blood she couldn’t tell one wound from another, and she couldn’t seem to wake him. She started to wipe the blood from his face with a piece of rag, only to stop suddenly when she discovered he didn’t have a right eye anymore. The empty socket stared blindly up at her, and she would have broken down and cried again, if there’d been any tears left in her. She started to call for help, but the words died unspoken on her lips as she stared around her.

The courtyard was a slaughterhouse, with the dead and the dying and the wounded lying side by side. Some of the army survivors just lay where they had fallen, too tired or too shocked by what they’d been through to move, even for food or water or help for their injuries. A few servants moved among the wounded, helping where they could, and women and children guarded the Castle battlements with improvised weapons.