Blue Moon Rising

  Julia kept her back pressed against the rotting tree, and swung Wolfsbane back and forth before her in wide, killing arcs. Decaying bodies lay piled around her, but still the demons came, leaping and clawing. Julia hacked viciously at the foul grinning creatures before her, knowing it was only a matter of time before she grew too tired or too slow, and then they would drag her down. She hoped it would be a quick death, but feared it wouldn’t. Her blade faltered as her concentration slipped, and a demon ducked under the sword and lunged for her throat. A backhand slash cut the creature in two, but left Julia’s defences wide open. The demons surged forward.

  Rupert slammed into them from behind, and the demons scattered as he fought his way through them to stand at Julia’s side. For a long time there was nothing but flashing steel and flying blood, and then the demons suddenly retreated into the shadows, leaving Rupert and Julia standing alone before the rotting tree. They slowly lowered their swords and stared warily about them. The darkness still seethed with misshapen life, but the demons seemed to be falling back into the Darkwood. The army watched suspiciously from behind its barricade, and made no move to pursue them.

  “It’s not like the demons to give in that easily,” panted Rupert, leaning heavily on his sword as he fought to get more air into his lungs. “They’re up to something. Have to be.”

  “Seems likely,” said Julia. She sat down suddenly as her legs gave in, and after a moment Rupert joined her. He glanced dubiously at Wolfsbane.

  “That thing any good, as a sword?”

  “I’ve known worse.”

  Rupert stared glumly at the dead bodies lying heaped around them, purulent with decay. He looked sideways at Julia, and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “You know, lass, there has to be an easier way to make a living.”

  They grinned at each other, too tired to laugh. Rupert looked closely at Julia’s wounds, and frowned.

  “You’re hurt,” he said harshly.

  “So are you,” said Julia. “But you still managed to save my life.”

  “You’d have done the same for me.”

  “How bad is that arm?”

  “Bad enough, lass. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve felt better.”

  Rupert put his good arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against his chest. They sat in silence a while, easing their hurts by sharing them. Rupert knew he should be getting Julia back to the rest of the army while the demons were still quiet, but he hadn’t the strength.

  “If nothing else,” said Julia, “I’ll have a few more interesting scars to add to my collection.” “Snap”, said Rupert. Julia stirred restively against his chest. “Rupert, this battle isn’t going very well, is it?”

  “It’s been a bloody fiasco, lass. Most of us are dead, or dying. Without the High Warlock’s magic to back us up, we were nothing more than sitting targets. It’s a wonder any of us have survived.”

  “Rupert … can you hear something?”

  “What?”

  “There’s something out there, Rupert, something big. And it’s coming this way.”

  Rupert looked out into the night, and then scrambled to his feet, sword in hand. Julia slowly got herself up and stood beside him, heavily leaning on Wolfsbane for support. Deep in the night, a soft glow was forming, the same vile shade as the Full Moon overhead. The blue glow came slowly out of the Darkwood, rising and falling and shifting constantly from one vague shape to another. Demons stirred uneasily in the shadows, and shrank back into the darkness. What the hell’s out there? thought Rupert. What could be so bad that even the demons are afraid of it? He remembered the worm in the Coppertown pit, and moved forward a little to put himself between Julia and whatever was coming out of the darkness. The army watched unmoving from behind its grisly barricade.

  A deep bass roar sounded on the night, a long deafening bellow of unreasoning malevolent rage. The sound echoed on through Rupert’s bones, even after the roar had died away to a low menacing growl and then to silence. Rupert shot a quick glance at the army’s barricade, but quickly decided against making a run for it. Whatever was coming wasn’t going to be stopped by a simple barricade. A slow muffled thudding began, like the beating of a giant heart, and Rupert felt his hackles rise. He’d heard that sound before, when he first brought the High Warlock back to the Castle. The ground shook beneath his feet, and once again Rupert felt a coldness in his soul as he recognised the sound for what it was—the steady, ponderous footsteps of something huge walking in the night, coming closer, closer. The ever-present stench of decay and corruption grew worse as the shapeless blue glow drifted nearer, and the giant footsteps jarred the earth like hammer blows. The hovering blue light finally came to a halt some twenty yards short of the army, and the footsteps stopped with it. The light pulsed once, outlining the rotting trees with its stark brilliance, and then faded away, revealing the horror it had hidden.

  It had obviously been dead for some time, but it moved and was aware. Its dull white flesh was dry and mummified, eaten away in places to reveal the discoloured bones beneath. It stood nearly fifty feet tall, its squat wedge-shaped head half hidden in shadows. Its wide slash of a mouth was filled with huge serrated teeth, and balefire burned where its eyes should have been. It had two arms and two legs and it stood erect, but there was nothing in the least human about it. A long barbed tail swept back and forth behind it, smashing apart the decaying trees as the creature moved among them. It was dead, and it was aware. It had lain in the ground for years beyond counting, but something had called it up and sent it out to kill again. The ground trembled under its feet, and its hatred thundered on the stinking air.

  “The swords!” cried King John. “The Infernal Devices! They’re our only hope!”

  He scrambled up and over the barricade, with Harald close behind him. The army made as though to follow, but the King waved them back. King John stalked forward to meet the creature, and Harald and Rupert and Julia moved in behind him. The creature’s head turned to follow them, the flames in its eye sockets flaring and jumping from the sudden movement. The King came to a sudden halt, glared up at the creature, and then thrust Rockbreaker deep into the ground before him. The earth heaved and tore itself apart, groaning like a wounded animal, but still the creature stood, braced securely on its huge legs and tail. The King withdrew Rockbreaker, and Harald stepped forward and lifted Flarebright above his head. Scarlet flames caressed the length of the blade, and then a bloody balefire leaped out from the sword and splashed against the creature’s chest. It screamed its rage, but the flames barely marked its dead flesh. Julia circled round to the creature’s left, Wolfsbane at the ready. The creature moved its head to follow her, and Rupert circled round to its right. He wasn’t sure what good he could do against something that was already dead, especially when all the Infernal Devices had done was to anger it, but he had to do something. Flarebright’s flame cut off suddenly as Harald lowered the sword, and the creature lurched forward. It reached for Julia with a clawed hand, and Wolfsbane gleamed brightly as it sliced clean through the mummified flesh. The creature snatched back its hand. Even in the dim light, Rupert could see that Wolfsbane had laid the hand open to the bone. There was no blood, but the wound was already corrupt and gangrenous. The creature growled once, and reached for Julia again.

  Harald lifted Flarebright, and vivid crimson balefire forced the creature to a halt. King John thrust Rockbreaker into the ground, and left it there. The sword stood upright, glowing fiercely against the dark, and jagged cracks opened up in the earth, racing away from the sword and towards the creature. Gaping crevasses appeared all around the towering creature, but still it wouldn’t fall. Julia ran forward and cut at the creature’s legs. It howled with murderous rage, and Julia had to throw herself flat as a huge clawed hand swept viciously through the air where her head had been. It reached for her again, and Rupert moved in behind the creature and hacked clean through its left ankle. The exposed tendon snapped like an overstretched cable, and the creature r
oared deafeningly as its leg collapsed under it. It lurched backwards, and then fell full length into a gaping crevasse. The loose earth gave way beneath Rupert’s feet like shifting sands, and he suddenly found himself sliding into the chasm after the creature. He tossed away his sword, threw himself at the edge, and just made it, hanging on grimly with his one good hand while his legs dangled over the long drop. The crumbling earth started to come apart under his fingers, and Julia grabbed him by the wrist, and held on to him until he could scramble up on to firmer ground.

  King John pulled Rockbreaker out of the ground, and the earth grew still again. Rupert retrieved his sword, and he and Julia helped one another to their feet, leaning on each other as much for comfort as support. And then a long angry roar echoed up out of the earth, and a huge dead-white hand appeared out of the crevasse and sank its claws deep into the earth. The great wedge-shaped head appeared over the edge of the chasm, its balefire eyes glowing brightly as the creature sought to pull itself out of the pit. Harald lunged forward and thrust Flarebright deep into the creature’s neck. Blood-red flames consumed the creature’s flesh, and it howled horribly. It jerked back its head in agony, pulling the sword out of Harald’s grasp. Crimson flames roared up about the creature’s head, but it wouldn’t release its hold on the side of the crevasse. Julia moved forward and plunged Wolfsbane into the creature’s throat, all the way to the hilt. The dead-white flesh decayed and rotted before her eyes, and Flarebright’s flames surged even higher. The creature released its hold and fell back into the pit, taking Flarebright and Wolfsbane with it. It disappeared from sight, and then the sides of the crevasse slammed together, and the night was still and quiet again.

  Rupert stood beside Julia, who was staring quietly at where the chasm had been. “You let go of the sword,” he said softly. “Why?”

  “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 horde. 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 armour 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 overripe 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 armour. 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 towards 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 blearily about her.

  “Rupert? Where are you, Rupert?”

  She straightened up when she realised he wasn’t with her any more, and glanced quickly round the packed courtyard. She couldn’t see him anywhere, and a cold panic seized her heart. Julia pushed herself away from the wall, and started towards 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 mid-air, 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 end 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.