Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels)

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Fisher. “The Magus said there was so much magic seeped into the warp and weft of the world that it would take ages to disappear completely.”

  “You’re sure the Magus is gone?” asked the Queen.

  “Quite sure,” said Hawk.

  “Good,” said the Queen. “He always disturbed the hell out of me.”

  “Has anyone got around to telling Lightfoot Moonfleet that the Magus is dead?” asked Fisher. “They always seemed very close.”

  “We were,” said the tiny winged faerie, appearing suddenly in their midst before the Throne. She grew quickly to human size and looked coldly about her. She was wearing a long black dress for mourning, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. She looked somehow less human without it, more alien, otherworldly. Her delicate wings shone with a pale pearlescent light. “I always loved him,” she said flatly. “Even though I knew he wasn’t Real, and that one day he’d have to go where I couldn’t follow.

  “Now it’s time for me to go. He was the only reason I stayed in the mortal world anyway. All my faerie kith and kin are long gone, walked sideways from the sun. I am the last faerie, and there’s no place for me in a world without magic. I go to join the rest of my kind, in the place where shadows fall. Good-bye, everyone. It’s been fun.”

  She blew Hawk a kiss and winked at Chance, and then shrank down to nothing and was gone.

  “It’s started,” said Lament. “The world is changing.”

  “Everything’s going to change,” Hawk pointed out. “Nothing will ever be the same again.”

  “Sometimes that’s a good thing,” said Lament. “I’m going through changes myself. I am no longer the Walking Man; just a man now, as any other. No faster or stronger, and certainly not invulnerable anymore.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said the Queen. “He stubbed his toe earlier, and you’d have thought he was dying.”

  Lament looked at her fondly. “And to celebrate my newly restored humanity, I have chosen of my own free will to marry the woman I have loved for so many years. Felicity has agreed to be my wife. Which to my mind says more about my courage than my common sense, but I never could resist a challenge.”

  “Oh, I’ll make you suffer for that later,” said Felicity, smiling.

  “Hold everything,” said Fisher. “You mean you’re going to be King of the Forest?”

  She looked quickly at Hawk, who was staring thoughtfully at Lament, but for the moment he had nothing to say.

  “I will be King to Felicity’s Queen,” Lament answered carefully, “but we’re both really only Regents for Stephen, until he comes of age and takes the Throne for himself. And then the Forest and Hillsdown will join together, peacefully, uniting two long-sundered Lands into one, as they were originally. No more wars, no more border skirmishes, no more young men going off to die too soon.” Lament smiled. “I spent far too much time dreaming of heaven. I’m going to spend what’s left of my life trying to make some here on earth, for everyone.”

  “This all seems rather sudden,” Fisher said.

  “We’ve waited a long time for this,” said Queen Felicity. “God knows, if we hadn’t both been so damned stubborn we’d have done this long ago. Do you have any objections, Captain Hawk?”

  “Not my place to make any,” Hawk said mildly. “I think you’ll make a good King, Jericho. You always did care more about other people than yourself. Just try to remember you’re not the Wrath of God anymore.”

  “With magic leaving, the world will, I hope, become a quieter, saner place,” said Lament. “A world that will no longer need a Walking Man.”

  And then everyone turned sharply as there was a loud growl to one side, but it was already too late to tell whether it had come from the Shaman or the Creature. The Shaman was glaring fiercely at Felicity and Lament, and hugging himself tightly, as though to keep from flying apart. His eyes were fierce and piercing behind the clay skull mask, but his lips were pressed tightly together. Disturbed by the Shaman’s anger, the Creature stirred restlessly at his side, showing his fangs and flexing his claws. His slow cunning eyes moved restlessly back and forth, searching for an enemy he could attack. But the Shaman said nothing, so everyone turned back again.

  “You’ve done very well, Captains Hawk and Fisher,” said the Queen, finishing the last of her drink and tapping ash from the end of her cigarette. “You’ve saved the Forest Kingdom from another Blue Moon and changed the lives of everyone you’ve met. A shame you couldn’t find my late husband’s killer, but—”

  “Oh, but we did,” said Hawk, and it suddenly went very quiet as everyone looked at him. “It really wasn’t that difficult to work out once we’d got all the distractions out of the way. There was only one person it could have been. Only one person with the means, the motive, and the opportunity. Only one man who could do such a terrible thing.” He turned to look at the Shaman. “Isn’t that right … King John?”

  He held out his left hand, and there in his palm was a small polished ruby, like a drop of blood. The Crimson Pursuant, glowing brightly in the presence of Forest Royalty. Everyone in the Court gasped a little as Hawk advanced on the Shaman, and the ruby glowed more and more fiercely. Hawk stopped right before the Shaman and closed his hand abruptly, cutting off the bloody glow.

  “You look very different now,” said Hawk. “And your voice is very changed. But there were always clues. The Creature is your old friend the Astrologer, transfigured by the Demon Prince. He would never have accepted anyone else as a friend. Then there was your dedication to the people, added to a complete disregard for the new established authorities. Of course you weren’t impressed by any of the new faces at Court. You’d been a King here. And of course, the Shaman comes and goes, and no one knows how. Everyone said that, but they put it down to magic.

  “As King John, you knew all the hidden entrances and secret passageways in the Castle. Including some that only the Royal Family knew, for reasons of security. It was easy for you to get past Harald’s guards and into his private quarters. You knew all the ways in. After all, they’d been your quarters when you were King. And finally the Magus’ protective wards couldn’t keep you out because they’d been set up to allow Forest Royalty to come and go as they pleased. That should have been safe enough. Everyone thought the Royal line now consisted only of Harald and Felicity and Stephen. Rupert was long gone, and everyone knew King John was dead. How did you become the Shaman, Your Majesty?”

  There was a long pause as everyone watched breathlessly, and then the Shaman slowly unfolded his arms, straightened up, and stood like a whole new person. There was authority, even aggression, in his stance now, and when he spoke, his voice was still rough and hoarse, but nowhere near as bad as it had been before.

  “I only wanted to be a hermit,” he said slowly. “After all that had happened in the Demon War, I knew I wasn’t fit to be King anymore, so I walked away from it all. Leaving the Throne for someone wiser than I. There were a lot of people living rough in the Forest in those days, finding food and shelter where they could. People broken by the horrors of the long night, physically or mentally, and often both. No one noticed one more hermit. And then I found the Creature that used to be my friend. I first learned magic trying to find a way to cure him, to turn him back into his old self. It wasn’t difficult to learn magic in those days; there were a lot of magical hot spots in the darker parts of the woods, left behind by the Blue Moon’s passing. Power, just waiting for someone to come along and pick it up. And I had lots of time to learn how to control and use it. But nothing I found or learned was enough to undo the Demon Prince’s curse. My old friend remained a Creature. I like to think he knows who I am somewhere deep within him.

  “But even after all I’ve learned, I would still have been happy to remain nothing more than a hermit. A man apart, free at last from duty and responsibilities. But over and over again the peasants came to me, seeking help and advice, because everyone knows hermits and magic-users
are always wise men. They told me of the changes in the Court and in the Land, and how King Harald was throwing away everything we’d fought for through his own stupid intransigence. So I put on my mask of woad and clay, changed my voice and my stance, and came back to Forest Castle. And no one knew me. No one recognized the man who was once King. I was almost disappointed. I came back to try and make a difference, to save the Land one more time, as the Shaman.” He smiled coldly at Hawk. “I always knew that if anyone was going to see through my disguise, it would be you. I always knew you’d be the greatest threat to my plans.”

  The Creature reacted to the rising anger in the Shaman’s voice, roared once, and then surged forward, heading straight for Hawk. On some level the transformed Astrologer still knew his old enemy. The Shaman cried out for him to stop, but the Creature threw himself at Hawk’s throat, his terrible claws reaching out before him. And Hawk spun expertly on one foot, his sword already in his hand, and he cut the Creature out of midair, the heavy blade smashing through the Creature’s ribs and deep into his side. The Creature crashed to the floor, screaming and kicking, still trying to get to Hawk as blood gushed from his side and sprayed from his snarling mouth. Hawk jerked his sword free and stabbed the Creature through the heart, the blade sinking half its length into the heaving malformed body. The Shaman and the Creature cried out together, and then the Creature convulsed and died. The Shaman stumbled forward as Hawk pulled his sword free and looked coldly down at his kill.

  “Payment for an old debt,” he said, almost viciously. “For all the harm and evil you did, Sir Astrologer.”

  The Creature’s shape shuddered and twisted, shrinking in on itself, bones creaking and joints snapping as he resumed his old human shape again. His curse had finally been broken in the only way it could be, by his death. The Shaman stood over him, and no one could see his face behind the woad and the clay.

  “You never knew him in his young days,” he said finally. “He was good and true then. He could have been a sorcerer, and a great man in his own right, but he gave it up to be my man because I needed him. Any of you would have been proud to know him then. He just lost his way, that’s all. It can happen to the best of us.” He shook his head slowly, weighed down by a great tiredness of the body and of the heart. “No tears. I ran out of tears a long time ago.”

  “Why did you kill Harald?” asked Hawk. “Why did you kill your own son?”

  The Shaman looked at him. “You ask that, standing there with my old friend’s blood dripping from your sword? I killed Harald for the same reason you did this. Because it was necessary.” He looked across at Felicity, sitting stiffly on her Throne, numbed by shock and an answer she’d never expected. “He wasn’t worthy, Felicity. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see the world was changing; and he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, change with it. He was determined to be an absolute monarch, even when it was clear the time for such things was over. He was prepared to see the whole country plunged into civil war and worse, just so he could be King. He had to be right, whatever the cost.” The Shaman sighed wearily. “The last thing I ever expected from Harald. He always understood politics so much better than I ever did. But in the end the power seduced and corrupted him just as it did me. You start to believe you’re the only one who can see the big picture, that you’re the only one who understands what needs to be done. You’re the King, so you must be right.

  “I came back to the Castle as the Shaman, hoping to show him the right way by example. But he ignored me. Wouldn’t even meet with me. So I went to see him in his rooms, my old rooms, and revealed to him who I was. I told him I hadn’t come back to be King. I just wanted to help and advise him. I didn’t want the Throne. Didn’t want anyone else to know who I was. I had come back to save the Land. To save him.

  “And he laughed at me. Laughed right in my face and told me I was a fool, and always had been. It was his turn now, and he knew what he was doing. I saw then that he could never change, never be what the Land needed, so I killed him, for the good of the Kingdom. It was my duty. I brought him into the world, so I had to send him out of it. One thrust with a hidden blade, right through the heart. He died so easily, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ve always known my duty. I’ve always done what had to be done. Just like you, Rupert. And Julia.”

  Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and then looked quickly about them, and were almost shocked to discover that no one else seemed at all shocked or even surprised by the revelation. If anything they all seemed a little relieved they could finally stop pretending not to know.

  “All right,” said Hawk to no one in particular. “When did you know? Chance, did you tell them?”

  “He didn’t have to,” said Queen Felicity. “Everyone here knew who you were the moment you walked in. It takes more than a few scars and a cheap dye job to hide faces as famous as yours. But we all decided that if you wanted to be here incognito, that was your right. So we all went along with it. Officially, Prince Rupert and Princess Julia were never here.”

  Hawk turned slowly back to face the Shaman. “I always hoped I’d meet you again someday, Father. I never really believed you were dead. But I never thought it would be like this. Why did you go away? Why did you let everyone, let me, think you were dead?”

  “It was necessary,” said the Shaman flatly. “How many times do I have to say it? I wasn’t fit to be King. I left, so someone else could take the Throne. Someone more worthy. You, or Harald. I hoped it would be you, but you never did have the courage to be King. You never wanted it badly enough.”

  “I never wanted it at all,” said Hawk. “I wanted a life of my own. So I went out and made one.”

  The Shaman looked at him and finally nodded, grudgingly approving. “You’ve grown up, Rupert.”

  “I had to. My father was dead.” Fisher came to stand beside Hawk, and he smiled at her for a moment before turning back to the Shaman. “Harald spoke to me after his death. Told me to beware our father’s legacy. It took me a while to work out what he meant, but once I realized you had to be the murderer, I understood. Might makes right; that was always your way and his. Using your power and position to enforce what you believed in, and to hell with everyone else. It lost you the Kingdom and it got Harald killed. I was starting to go that way myself in Haven, but I pulled myself back from the brink. There has to be law and justice for all, to protect the world from people like us. So, Father. What do we do now? I can’t let you escape. Are you ready to face justice?”

  “Justice?” asked the Shaman. “Who are you, any of you, to judge me? I am the King, and the King is the Land. I did what was necessary to save the Land. None of you have a right to judge or condemn my actions. I caused the problem by allowing Harald to take the Throne, and I put a stop to it in the only way possible. Now he’s dead and the Land is safe, and I will go back into the Forest to be a hermit again. And let us all pray my duty never calls me back here.”

  “What for?” asked Hawk. “To kill again? Who would you kill this time if you didn’t like the way things were going? Lament? Felicity? Stephen? You haven’t changed at all, Father. You still believe might makes right.”

  “I may have given up my Throne, but I still have my responsibilities,” the Shaman said fiercely. “I would have thought you of all people would understand what duty means. Now get out of my way, boy. I’m leaving.”

  “No,” said Hawk. “I can’t let you go, Father.”

  “What will you do, Rupert? Cut me down like you did the Astrologer? Can you kill your own father? I killed my son, and it nearly destroyed me. None of you understand what it cost me to do what I did. To do my bloody duty.”

  It began to rain, right there in the middle of Court. Great heavy drops of rain falling out of nowhere, faster and faster, quickly forming into a slim blue figure of living water. She looked around her, her wet mouth moving in a slow, gentle smile. Sir Vivian stepped forward, and knelt and bowed his head to her.

  “Vivian?” asked Cally, one han
d at her swordhilt.

  “Sir Vivian?” asked Queen Felicity uncertainly. “Who is this … person?”

  Sir Vivian looked up into the calm watery face, and she nodded. Sir Vivian rose to his feet and turned back to the Throne. “This is the Lady of the Lake, Your Majesty. An elemental formed around the ghost of a dead woman. She is the spirit of the Land, our ancient mother moving through the wet earth, the force that makes the green life grow, and nurtures us all.”

  The Shaman moved slowly forward, all the strength and arrogance gone from his face. The Lady turned toward him and he stopped abruptly, looking into her face, unable to approach any further. “Oh, dear God,” King John said softly. “It is you. Eleanor …”

  Shock and surprise moved through the whole Court as they looked numbly at the Lady of the Lake.

  “Queen Eleanor?” asked Chance.

  “Mother?” asked Hawk.

  “Yes,” said the Lady in a voice like a sparkling stream, smiling on them all like a benediction. “Or at least, I was. Eleanor died long ago, and what was left of an ancient Transient Being called the Lady of the Lake merged with her dying spirit so that she could continue. I am the last Transient Being in the world of men now, and with Reverie gone, I shall fade from the world as magic departs.”

  “Mother,” said Hawk. He started toward her, but the Lady stopped him with a kind but implacable look.

  “Your mother is dead, Rupert. I’m the Lady of the Lake now. The spirit of the Land. I remember you, but I have to be everyone’s mother now.” She turned her attention back to the Shaman, who actually shook under her gaze. “I am here to judge you, John. Who has the better right than the woman who was your wife, Queen to your King, mother to the man you murdered?”

  The Shaman sank to his knees before her and tears ran down his face, cutting thick trails through the clay and the woad. “Oh, God, Eleanor; I killed our son! And I killed you, too, through my jealousy. And I think perhaps I’ve killed all that was good and honorable in me. I’m not the man you knew, Eleanor, the man you married. There’s so much blood on my hands, and not all the water in the world can ever wash them clean again.”