Once In a Blue Moon (71 page)

“You mean give it to some brave young soldier, with all his life ahead of him?” said Gillian. “How fair would that be? I’ve got a lot less to lose than most.”

Jack sighed. “All right; tell you what . . . you watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.”

“Just like when we were young,” said Gillian. “Us against the world—and let the world beware.”

“When we were young . . . ,” said Jack. “I never really expected to get old. Thought for sure I’d die young, in battle for some good cause or other.”

“Right,” said Gillian. “Being old is a pain. But it beats most of the alternatives . . .”

“I take it you have seen what’s happened to the King,” Jack said quietly.

“Oh, I’ve seen him,” said Gillian. “That . . . is not natural. Wild Magic?”

“Has to be,” said Jack. “You don’t get that kind of wish fulfilment through clean magic.”

“I thought you believed in miracles,” said Gillian.

“I do,” said Jack. “Which is why I know when I’m not seeing one.”

He broke off as his daughter, Mercy, came striding into the Court, wearing her Sir Kay chain mail and a sword strapped to her hip. She smiled dazzlingly at everyone, tossed her blonde hair, and strolled over to join her father and her aunt Gillian.

“Where have you been, girl?” said Jack. He tried hard to sound stern, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Organising the Castle defences, Father,” said Mercy. “Redhart’s bound to launch a direct attack at us, and almost certainly sooner rather than later. Let them come. I’ve got some really nasty surprises waiting for them.” She stopped, to look at the tall sword hilt rising up behind Jack’s head. “So. The rumours are true. Everyone’s talking about it. You’ve brought the Infernal Devices back into the world. Weren’t we in enough trouble already?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” said Jack.

“Damn right we will, Father,” said Mercy.

Raven arrived next, with the Seneschal. The Necromancer looked more than usually smug, while the Seneschal looked more than usually worried. He broke off in mid-conversation with Raven and hurried forward to attend the King. Who just nodded amiably to him and concentrated on his chicken leg. The Seneschal shifted nervously from foot to foot, like a child too anxious to ask for the jakes, and finally settled for taking up his usual position, standing behind the throne. The King tossed aside what was left of the chicken leg, and smiled calmly out across his Court, and his audience.

“Where is Peregrine de Woodville?” he said. “Where is my First Minister?”

“He’s at Parliament, your majesty,” said the Seneschal. “Gathering political support for the war. As you instructed.”

The King just nodded, and gestured brusquely for everyone to draw nearer to the throne. As they did, the King produced a single long-stemmed red rose from out of his sleeve and toyed with it idly. Up close, everyone could see the extent of the change in him. He looked to be no more than in his thirties, his once spare frame loaded now with bulk and muscle. His eyes were clear and his mouth was firm, and he looked every inch the King he had once been. Richard stood directly before his father, torn between conflicting emotions. He was glad to see his father looking hale and hearty again, and delighted to see the obvious clarity and wisdom in his father’s eyes. But a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach made him afraid to ask what price his father had agreed to for such a miracle. The King smiled on them all, knowing what they were all thinking and determined to make them wait for their answer.

“Hawk, Fisher,” he said evenly. “Show me the marvellous new weapons you have acquired from the Armoury and the Cathedral.”

So Richard showed off Lawgiver, drawing the great broadsword to reveal its newly polished and sharpened blade. Everyone nodded recognition of the legendary old name. Hawk drew the Rainbow Sword, though it looked like an entirely ordinary sword. Gillian demonstrated what the Cestus could do, to impressed murmurs. And Catherine demonstrated her newly acquired Blood Magic, by generating a great wind that rushed up and down the Court, before condensing into several small whirlwinds that spun fiercely, bumping into one another, before she dismissed them with a sharp gesture. Catherine smiled briefly.

“No one will send me anywhere I don’t want to go, ever again.”

And if she was looking at the King when she said this, rather than anyone else, no one said anything.

“The return of the Blood Magic must mean the Unreal has been restored to Castle Midnight,” said the Sombre Warrior. “Which means William and Christof must also now possess the Blood Magic. Which will make them very powerful enemies on the battlefield.”

“And Cameron,” said Catherine. “Don’t forget my exiled older brother, the Broken Man. You can bet my father’s already called him back.”

“Of course,” said the Sombre Warrior. “He will have the Blood Magic too.”

Pretty much everyone in the Court felt cold chills run up and down their spines at the thought of the return of Redhart’s greatest warrior and general. The man who never lost a battle . . .

“You’ve shown me some interesting new weapons,” said King Rufus. “Very pretty they are, and very useful, I’m sure, when the fighting starts. But I want to see the real weapons. The ones that will win this war for us. Show me the Infernal Devices.”

“No,” Hawk said immediately. “You can’t draw them here. Can’t draw them anywhere, except when there’s an enemy to unleash them on.”

“No one says no to me in my own Court,” said King Rufus. “Not even you . . . sir Hawk.”

“Don’t push your luck, Rufus,” said Hawk, and the whole Court went quiet.

“When the swords are drawn they’re a danger to everyone,” said Fisher after a moment. “Hawk is merely concerned for your safety. Your majesty.”

“Of course he is,” said King Rufus.

“I carry Belladonna’s Kiss,” said Fisher. “Jack Forester has Blackhowl, and Raven has Soulripper. We don’t know yet exactly what their particular qualities are. That will become clear once the killing starts.”

“I want one,” said Rufus. “I am King. I should wield the most powerful weapon.”

“The Infernal Devices are alive and aware, Father,” Richard said carefully. “All the legends agree that these swords corrupt the souls of those who wield them. You are too important to the Forest Land to put yourself at such a risk.”

“Well said, my son,” said the King. “But since the King must have a sword with legendary power, you won’t mind giving up Lawgiver to me. Will you?”

“I am honoured to present it to you, Father,” said Richard.

He unstrapped the old leather scabbard and laid the ancient broadsword at his father’s feet.

Chappie growled suddenly, his dark lips pulling all the way back to reveal jagged yellow teeth. The harsh sound was very loud on the quiet of the Court. Everyone looked at the dog, who was glaring at the King on his throne.

“Ask him,” said the dog. “Ask him what he’s done, to renew himself. I can smell the stink of demons on him.”

The King just smiled. “Yes . . . I suppose it is time to tell the tale. You’ve been very polite, and very patient, but you all want to know what I’ve done to regain my lost youth, and sanity. It’s really very simple. I just went for a little walk outside, to talk to the Standing Stone.”

Richard glared at the Seneschal. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him!”

“He slipped away!” said the Seneschal. “He is the King, after all!”

King Rufus stood up suddenly and threw his long-stemmed rose onto the floor, at everyone’s feet. It snapped and writhed, coiling and uncoiling like an angry snake, before rising up suddenly and growing rapidly to take on a new form. Until at last the Green Man stood before them. Ten feet tall, a godly but still human figure, with bright green skin wrapped in bright green robes, the face almost inhumanly noble and handsome. The Green Man smiled benignly about him.

Chappie started to lunge forward, growling fiercely, and Hawk had to grab a handful of fur at the scruff of his neck to hold him back. The Sombre Warrior and Peter Foster both drew their swords and put themselves between their charges and the old god.

“Stand down!” roared the King. “Everyone, stay where you are! And put those weapons away! This is my benefactor.”

“I am the spirit of the Forest,” said the Green Man in a calm and most reasonable voice. “The green heart of the green Land. I am here to make you all strong again.”

“I’m already strong,” said Hawk. “What are you exactly?”

“I was here before this Castle,” said the tall green figure. “I was here before everything, when everyone lived in the woods, because there was no one else. Think of me as an old god, if you wish. I don’t mind. I am the wild spirit, and the laughter in the woods. I am the horns on the stag and the lightning in the storm. I am all the power you will ever need.”

“Father?” said Richard. “What have you done? What deal did you make, with this . . . Green Man?”

“I did what I had to,” said King Rufus. “To be the King I needed to be. The King this Land needs if we’re to win this war. That’s what it means to be King, boy. To do what’s necessary for the Land you rule.”

And that was when Sir Jasper appeared out of nowhere. He looked wildly around him, and then rushed toward the throne, passing right through several people on the way. “A gateway has appeared in the Forest!” he said loudly. “Redhart is here!”

“What?” said King Rufus, his calm confidence shattered. “What are you talking about, dead man?”

“The Redhart army has come to Forest Castle!” said Sir Jasper. “All of it! They’re coming here, right now!”

Raven swore briefly, and conjured up a window on the air, showing a view of what was happening outside the Castle. Everyone watched in silence as Redhart’s armed forces came roaring through the woods, passing through a huge, glowing dimensional doorway. More doors appeared, spread throughout the surrounding Forest, and more troops came pouring through. Forest Castle was under attack from all sides. None of the Redhart soldiers made any move to enter the great clearing, let alone approach the moat, but it was clearly only a matter of time. Some of the soldiers were already establishing fortified defence positions. Raven let the window disappear.

“It would appear William has beaten us to the punch,” King Rufus said slowly, sinking back onto his throne. “By the time Parliament can raise and gather our armies and send them here . . . it will all be over.”

“Then it’s up to us to stop them,” said Hawk. “And win the war here. Because all William has is an army. You have legends.”

“Damn right,” said Fisher.

TEN

TRUTHS REVEALED, IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE

A
slow, heavy rain fell across the Forest and pattered loudly against the exterior of a recently erected command tent. In fact, those inside could still hear grumbling soldiers outside, hammering in the last few tent pegs. The Redhart command tent had been set in place not far from the edge of the Forest, so close they could look out across the open clearing and see the Castle through the intervening trees. When the dark sky and pouring rain allowed. Inside the tent General Staker bent over the main table, studying a magical image of the Castle supplied by the sorcerer Van Fleet. Staker wore his usual hard-worn chain mail, over battered leather armour, and looked every inch the professional soldier, happy at his work. Van Fleet was wearing his usual richly coloured peacock robes, though they seemed to hang more loosely around him than previously. Recent events had taken a lot out of the sorcerer, and it showed. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, and didn’t care who knew it.

Also gathered around the table, taking in the highly detailed image of Forest Castle, were Redhart’s Champion, Malcolm Barrett, in his highly polished armour, and the Broken Man, Prince Cameron. The Champion was an impressive-looking warrior in his own right, but he was still overshadowed (and just a bit intimidated, though he would never admit it) by the huge barbarian figure of the Broken Man in his hulking armour, great mane of braided black hair, and bushy beard. Malcolm had to admit that Prince Cameron was everything the battlefield legends had promised, and more.

“Just how accurate is this image of yours, Van Fleet?” demanded General Staker. “I’m not sending my men up against the Castle unless I’m sure of the details.”

“I’ve been studying the Castle through my farseeing glass,” said Van Fleet. His voice was low and dull, and he might have seemed disinterested if he hadn’t been so clearly exhausted and used up. He didn’t even look at the image on the table; his puffy eyes focused instead on some inner view. “What you’re looking at is an exact duplicate of Forest Castle, from the crumbling battlements all the way down to the sewer outlets. Bloody thing’s so old and decrepit it’s a wonder to me it’s still upright. I can focus in on anything you might want to see more clearly . . . right up to individual stones in the walls.”

“How long has King William had you studying this Castle?” said the Champion.

Van Fleet smiled coldly. “Ask the King.”

“Don’t sulk,” said Staker. “It’s very unbecoming in a sorcerer.”

“I don’t want to be here!” said Van Fleet. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m a sorcerer, not a fighter. It’s cold and wet and I hate the outdoors.”

“We’re at war,” said Cameron. “Which means you’re whatever your King needs you to be, and you go where he sends you.”

“You should know,” said Van Fleet.

“What about the Castle’s magical defences?” the Champion said quickly. “Can you show us those?”

“Of course,” said the sorcerer. “Prepare to be thoroughly depressed.”

He gestured briefly, and the image of the Castle all but disappeared, hidden behind layer upon layer of overlapping spells and curses and magical booby traps. Laid down and refined over many generations, they blazed and spat and crackled all around the Castle. It was like looking at a single stone set in the middle of a bramble bush. If the brambles were also on fire, and poisonous.

“You can’t just launch an open attack on the Castle, General,” said Van Fleet, with a certain gloomy satisfaction. “Impressive though your armed forces are. Those defences would just eat them up and spit them out again.”