Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) Read online

  “There were things in the sea, too,” said Fisher, frowning as she remembered things she’d put a lot of effort into forgetting. “Just swimming in the dark waters by the coastline had been enough to change the life there in harsh, unnatural ways. The crew of the Revenge might have been pirates once, but we had good cause to be grateful for their swordsmanship when things came crawling up the sides of the ship at dead of night. They were pale as corpses because their skin never saw the sun, and they had no eyes because they had no need of them in the dark depths of the sea. They had spikes on their spines and mouths stuffed with jagged teeth. They moved as silently as ghosts and fought like demons, but they screamed like men when they died.”

  “There was a kraken half the size of the ship,” said Hawk. “Red as a rose, with long barbed tentacles that wrapped around the bow of the Revenge and tried to drag it under. And once we saw a serpent, huge and magnificent, three times the length of the ship. It swam in circles around us for over an hour, raising its great feathered horsehead high into the air to look down on us small things. It was every color of the rainbow, and it looked at us with eyes that knew every secret in the sea …”

  “Most ships that make the long voyage down the coastline never reach their destination,” said Fisher. ‘The Deadlands have a long reach.”

  “Anyway,” said Hawk, “eventually we ended up here, in Haven, pretty much broke and with nowhere else to go. So we looked around, thought we could do some good here, or at least make a difference, so we settled down as city Guards. We thought we were needed.”

  Fisher sniffed loudly at that, but had nothing else to add.

  “How did you find us?” Hawk asked. “I thought we’d covered our tracks pretty well.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” said Chance. “Not least because you don’t look at all like your official portraits. When I first saw you, back in the Devil’s Hook, I barely recognized you.”

  “Hold everything,” said Fisher. “There are official portraits of us? Where?”

  “In the great Hall of the Forest Castle,” said Chance. “Huge things, almost nine feet tall, painted by the most fashionable portrait artists in the North. No expense was spared for the two legendary heroes of the long night. There are statues, too. Lots of them, all over the Forest Land. Some of the peasants even leave offerings before them, even though that’s officially discouraged.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet,” said Hawk.

  “But of course, since neither of you were available to sit for your portraits, the artists had to work from people’s descriptions, and their memories,” said Chance. “So not surprisingly, the end results were rather … idealized. To be honest, about the only things they got right were your hair colors. Still, I never expected the likenesses to be that good. I’d seen the official portrait of my father, the Champion, and I knew that couldn’t be accurate. No one could have that many muscles on their upper torso and still stand upright.

  “You covered your trail pretty thoroughly, but luckily I didn’t have to follow that. I had a magical gem from the Old Armory, the Crimson Pursuant, that was designed specifically to track down and recognize members of the Forest Royalty. It brought me right here, to you. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, I think I would,” said Hawk. “Not least because I never knew such a thing existed.”

  Chance took a small leather pouch from his belt, pulled it open, and spilled out onto his palm a small polished ruby. It lay on his palm like a drop of blood. It seemed perfectly unremarkable, until Hawk leaned forward for a better look, whereupon the ruby blazed with an inner fire, pulsing like a heartbeat. Chance closed his hand around the ruby and dropped it back into the pouch. Hawk looked quickly around him, but everyone else in the tavern was ostentatiously minding their own business.

  “King Harald left instructions in his will,” said Chance, putting the leather pouch away, “that in the event of his death, this gem was to be taken from the Armory, and used to track you down, or your heir, so that the Forest line could continue if anything happened to Prince Stephen.”

  “He could have tracked us down at any time,” said Fisher. “He just chose not to.”

  “He should have sent you sooner,” said Hawk, almost glaring at Chance. “When he first realized he was in danger. Then we might have got back in time to save him.”

  “He would rather have died than beg us for help,” said Fisher. “But he knew his duty, to his Kingdom and his son. He knew Rupert would have to return, to avenge his killer’s death.”

  “He would have done the same for me,” said Hawk. “How long have you been looking for us, King’s Questor?”

  “Oh, almost a week now,” said Chance.

  Hawk and Fisher stared at him incredulously. “A week?” said Hawk. “It took us months to get this far south!”

  “Well, yes,” said Chance. “But you took the long way, down the coastline. I came through the Rift. You have heard of the Rift, haven’t you?”

  Hawk and Fisher looked at each other. “Just rumors,” said Hawk slowly. “We’re pretty cut off from the mainstream down here. Tell us about the Rift.”

  “It’s the greatest wonder of the modern age!” said Chance. “A sorcerous gateway, an opening in space itself that has linked the north with the south for the first time in centuries. You step through the Rift in the north, and step out of the Rift in the south. Simple as that. And vice versa, of course. The Deadlands are no longer a barrier between north and south. All kinds of trade and other interactions have been going on for years now.”

  “We never knew,” said Hawk. “We could have gone home anytime.”

  “If we’d had a reason to,” said Fisher. “Who created this … Rift?”

  “The Magus,” answered Chance. “The High Warlock’s successor at Forest Castle. A sorcerer of great and subtle powers. He came to Harald’s Court to announce the High Warlock’s death, and proclaim himself the Warlock’s chosen successor.”

  “I could have told them that was a lie,” said Chappie from under the table. “And I did, later. But no one ever listens to me.”

  “Not now, Chappie,” said Chance.

  “See what I mean?”

  “The Magus proved his worth and his power by opening the Rift,” said Chance. “Though it took him nearly a year to set the spell up. After that, he was the darling of the Court. Officially, the Magus has sworn fealty to King Harald and his line, but unofficially he’s never closed his door to anyone. If you can afford it, or if you’ve got something or someone he wants, you too can have the Magus perform a wonder on your behalf. He never worked openly against the King, but no one was ever too extreme or too unpopular to be denied the Magus’ ear. Still, the Rift was everything he promised it would be, and more. Trade and other influences have transformed the Forest Kingdom almost beyond recognition in the last ten years.”

  “What’s the Magus like?” asked Fisher, frowning.

  “Spooky,” said Chance.

  “Too bloody right,” agreed the dog on the floor. “Makes my fur stand up on end every time he’s anywhere near. Do you have any idea how painful that is? And he smells wrong.”

  “Let’s put the Magus to one side, just for the moment,” said Hawk. “Tell me about Harald. What happened to him after we left and he became King?”

  “King Harald married Princess Felicity of Hillsdown,” said Chance. “He was obliged to marry one of Duke Aide’s daughters under the terms of a contract signed long ago by your father, King John, and since Princess Julia was … no longer available, he married the next in line. Felicity. It was a magnificent wedding. Everyone came. Everyone who was anyone, from the Forest and Hillsdown. Or maybe it just seemed that way; the Castle was packed solid for months on end with friends and relations. The servants ended up sleeping in the stables. King Viktor and Queen Catriona came all the way from Redhart, just to bless the wedding. The new Royal Couple seemed happy enough, and everyone said they looked very well together. Even so, it was still a number of years before Qu
een Felicity gave birth to their only child, Stephen.”

  “I can’t believe it,” said Fisher, shaking her head. “Felicity is Queen of the Forest Land? That idiot? There is no God, there is no justice …”

  “Do I take it you and she never got on?” asked Hawk, amused.

  “I have had fungal infections I thought more highly of. Felicity was and no doubt still is a bitch of the first water, with no principles and even fewer scruples. She did everything I ever did and a whole lot more, and never once even looked like getting caught. She always found someone else to carry the blame and take her punishments. Sometimes me. She slept with everything that breathed, plotted treason with anyone stupid enough to trust her, and never did a day’s work in her life. She used to have servants following her around all the time, just in case she dropped something.”

  “Well,” said Hawk. “At least she and Harald had a lot in common, then.”

  “She is vile, evil, and appalling! She is no more fitted to be Queen of the Forest Kingdom than one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! In fact, they’d probably do less damage in the long run!”

  “I’m assuming this wasn’t a love match,” said Hawk, ignoring Fisher’s raised voice with the ease of long practice. “How did Felicity and Harald get on?”

  “They were always polite enough in public,” Chance said carefully. “And if there were lovers or dalliances, they were both very discreet. But servants will gossip, and some stories arose often enough to become more than credible. Apparently their rows could go on for hours, and they weren’t above throwing things. Sometimes large, heavy things with points on them. And it wasn’t unknown for them to go days on end without speaking to each other except in public ceremonies. I’m amazed they cooperated long enough to produce an heir.”

  “I have a nephew,” said Hawk. “How about that.”

  “He stands to inherit the Forest Throne when he comes of age,” said Chance. “If he lives that long. For the moment, his mother rules on his behalf, as Regent. Of course, you also have a claim to the Throne, Prince Rupert. You could replace the Queen as Regent, or even put aside your nephew and take the crown for yourself, for the good of the Kingdom. Have you any children of your own, to continue your line?”

  “No,” Fisher answered quietly. “It never seemed to be the right time.”

  “Our lives have always been … complicated,” said Hawk. “Not to mention constantly bloody dangerous.”

  “Tell us more about how Harald was murdered,” said Fisher. “I still haven’t heard anything that explains why Hawk and I have to go back. Don’t you have your own investigators? And what about the Magus? If he’s such a hot-shit sorcerer, why can’t he tell you who the murderer is?”

  “That last is a very good question,” said Chance. “Especially since the magical wards protecting the King were designed and maintained solely by the Magus, who swore there wasn’t another living sorcerer with enough power to break or penetrate them. He’s been conspicuously silent about that since the murder, except to say that his wards were still intact after the murder. Which was supposed to be impossible. The whole thing seems impossible. There was a small army of guards watching every entrance to the King’s private quarters, but no one saw anything. Harald was on his own for less than an hour. One of the guards heard him fall, looked in, and found the King already dead, with no one else present. And now you know as much about how Harald was murdered as anyone else. And that’s after months of investigative work.”

  Hawk and Fisher were both frowning thoughtfully. “Sounds like a variation on a locked room murder mystery,” said Hawk. “They’re always bastards. Were you present in the Castle when my brother was killed, Chance? Did you see anything unusual?”

  “Unfortunately, the King had already sent me on a mission to the Darkwood, sometime previously,” said Chance. “That’s when I met Chappie, and we fell in together. I wasn’t there when my King needed me.”

  “Were there any other sorcerers present who could confirm the Magus’ wards were unbroken?” asked Fisher.

  “Oh, the Castle’s crawling with magic-users these days,” said Chance. “But they’re all pretty low level. Anyone with any real magical abilities was killed off during the Demon War. We don’t have anyone powerful enough to challenge the Magus.”

  “Then the next obvious guess has to be that the Magus was somehow involved in the murder,” said Hawk. “He might even be the murderer.”

  “Then why bother with a knife?” asked Fisher.

  “Misdirection?” Hawk suggested.

  “A lot of fingers have been pointed at the Magus,” said Chance. “Mostly when he’s not around. The Magus is a very powerful figure at Court. But he’s never shown any direct interest in politics, or in gaining political power for himself. He’s currently the main protector of the Queen and her young son. Along with Sir Vivian, High Commander of the Castle Guard. They watch each other pretty closely. Vivian and the Magus have never liked or trusted each other.”

  “I remember Vivian,” said Hawk, just a little coldly. “He was a Lord then. And a traitor. He plotted to murder my father.”

  For the first time Chance looked openly shocked. “I never heard any of that before! The legend has it that Vivian gave up his Lordship to fight beside and protect the peasants during the long night. King Harald granted him a knighthood on his return to the Castle after the War.”

  “You don’t want to believe everything you hear in legends,” said Fisher. “A lot of things happened during the long night that only the inner circle ever knew about. Vivian plotted to kill one King when he thought his duty drove him to it. Who’s to say he wouldn’t try again, with another King?”

  Chance shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Sir Vivian is one of the greatest heroes in the Forest Kingdom, looked up to and respected by all. Everyone knows the legend of the Hellstrom brothers, Vivian and Gawaine, defenders of Tower Rouge. King John knighted both of them for that, and later made Vivian a Lord. How could such a man be a traitor?”

  Hawk smiled tiredly. “You’d be surprised what duty and necessity can drive a man to. But you’re right. The Vivian I remember would have more reasons than most to protect Harald. Tell me about the Queen. Felicity. Isobel doesn’t seem to think too highly of her. How do you see her position in all this?”

  Chance hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She was fond of King Harald, in her own way. For all their arguments, they always stood together against any threat from outside. If she’d wanted him dead, she’d had plenty of opportunities before, and knowing Felicity, she would have had no trouble in making it look like an accident, or even a purely natural event.”

  “But right now she’s ruling the Forest as Stephen’s Regent,” said Fisher. “A monarch in all but name.”

  “Her powers are severely limited as Regent,” said Chance. “If enough factions got together, they could remove and replace her with another Regent. So far, the factions are too busy fighting each other, but …”

  “Who backs the Queen?” Hawk asked.

  “Sir Vivian has sworn himself her protector, on his blood and his name. He’s taken his failure to protect the King very hard. And there’s the Magus.” Chance frowned. “But that’s about it. Everyone else has their own agendas, or ambitions. The Queen has an abrasive personality, and is more respected than liked.”

  Fisher snorted. “I can believe that.”

  “Most people who currently accept her as Regent, or at least don’t openly oppose her, do so out of loyalty to the young King-to-be, Stephen. But the Prince is not immune from danger. There are many factions in the Court, some of them quite extreme, desperately trying to turn the situation to their own advantage. The most obvious being Duke Alric of Hillsdown. He is currently visiting Forest Castle, along with a company of his soldiers. He couldn’t bring any more than that for fear of being seen as an invasion, but he could call his army into the Forest at any time, and everyone knows it. Officially, he came t
o offer comfort and support to his grieving daughter, but she hasn’t done a lot of grieving, not in public anyway.”

  “You can forget the comfort part,” Fisher said flatly. “My father never gave a damn for anyone but himself. He’s never been anything more than a coldhearted, endlessly scheming politician, whose only use for his children was as pawns in his ambitions. He used up four wives producing his nine daughters, and never missed any of them.” Fisher smiled coldly. “But the joke was on him. His daughters were never supposed to be anything more than possessions that he could marry off in return for power and influence outside Hillsdown. Daddy always was ambitious to be more than just a Duke. But with no sons to cramp our style, we daughters blossomed in our own right. And we had all learned from dear Daddy to be just like him. Though, of course, in my case he had the last laugh, when he signed my death warrant.”

  She was almost spitting out the words at the end, shaking with rage and bitterness. Hawk put a comforting hand on her arm, but she barely noticed, eyes lost in yesterday.

  “Anyway,” Chance said awkwardly, “he’s made it clear he wishes to see the Forest and Hillsdown become one Kingdom again, as it used to be long ago, before the original Starlight Duke led his rebellion and made Hillsdown into a separate nation. When Stephen becomes King, he will have a legitimate claim to the Thrones of both the Forest and Hillsdown, since the Duke has no son of his own to inherit. Of course, this is just another reason why a great many people would rather see Stephen dead right now. The main political factions—”

  “If I were you, I’d send for another round of drinks,” interrupted Chappie, lying on his back on the floor again. “This is going to take some time.”

  “It’s not really all that complicated,” Chance said quickly. “It’s just that the Rift has made it possible for all kinds of new philosophies, political and religious, to reach the Forest Kingdom for the first time. In particular, the doctrine of democracy and constitutional monarchy has seized the imaginations of many. In fact, the democrats would be by far the biggest faction, if they weren’t hopelessly split into dozens of quarreling splinter groups, all with their own dogmatic dogmas and agendas. Essentially, you have Sir Vivian preaching slow cautious change and reform; the Landsgrave Sir Robert Hawke, who wants a purely figurehead monarch and an elected Parliament; and the Shaman, who preaches fire and brimstone politics, and the removal of the current powers-that-be by force. The only thing they can all agree on is that they don’t want Queen Felicity as Regent.”