Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) Read Free

infected.
He shook his head and looked about him. The rain had died away during the fight, but the sun was already sliding down the sky toward evening, and the shadows were darkening. Nights were falling earlier these days, even though it was barely summer. Rain dripped steadily from the overhanging branches, and a dank, musky smell hung heavily on the still air. Rupert glanced at the web cocoon, and shivered suddenly as he remembered how close he’d come to trying to cut his way through. Predators came in many forms, especially in the Tanglewood.
    He sighed resignedly. Tired or no, it was time he was on his way.
    “Unicorn! Where are you?”
    “Here,” said a polite voice from the deepest of the shadows.
    “Are you coming out, or do I come in there after you?” growled the Prince. There was a slight pause, and then the unicorn stepped diffidently out onto the trail. Rupert glared at the animal, who wouldn’t meet his gaze.
    “And where were you, while I was risking my neck fighting that demon?”
    “Hiding,” said the unicorn. “It seemed the logical thing to do.”
    “Why didn’t you help?”
    “Well,” said the unicorn reasonably, “If you couldn’t handle the demon with a sword and a full set of armor, I didn’t see what help I could offer.”
    Rupert sighed. One of these days he’d learn not to argue with the unicorn.
    “How do I look?”
    “Terrible.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    “You’ll probably have scars,” said the unicorn helpfully.
    “Great. That’s all I need.”
    “I thought scars on the face were supposed to be heroic?”
    “Whoever thought that one up should have his head examined. Bloody minstrels … Help me up, unicorn.”
    The unicorn moved quickly in beside him. Rupert reached out, took a firm hold of the stirrup, and slowly pulled himself up out of the mud. The unicorn stood patiently as Rupert leaned wearily against his side, waiting for his bone-deep aches to subside long enough for him to make a try at getting up into the saddle.
    The unicorn studied him worriedly. Prince Rupert was a tall, handsome man in his mid-twenties, but blood and pain and fatigue had added twenty years to his face. His skin was gray and beaded with sweat, and his eyes were feverish. He was obviously in no condition to ride, but the unicorn knew that Rupert’s pride would force him to try.
    “Rupert …” said the unicorn.
    “Yeah?”
    “Why don’t you just … walk me for a while? You know how unsteady I am in this mud.”
    “Yeah,” said Rupert. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”
    He reached out and took hold of the bridle, his head hanging wearily down. Slowly, carefully, the unicorn led him past the motionless cocoon and on down the trail, heading deeper into the Tanglewood.
    Two days later, Rupert was back in the saddle and fast approaching the boundary between Tanglewood and Darkwood. His aches had mostly died away, thanks to a pouch of herbs the Court Astrologer had forced on him before he left, and though more than once he found himself wishing for a mirror, the wounds on his face seemed to be scabbing nicely. All in all, Rupert was feeling a little more cheerful, or at least only mildly depressed.
    He was supposed to kill a dragon, but truth to tell nobody had seen one in ages, and they’d pretty much passed into legend. Rupert had become somewhat disenchanted with legends; they seemed to dwell on the honor and the glory and leave out the important parts, like how you killed whatever it was without getting killed yourself. “Because your heart is pure” isn’t a lot of help when you’re up against a dragon.
I bet mine breathes fire
, thought Rupert dismally. He was working hard on a great new rationalization that would let him turn back almost honorably, when his bladder loudly called itself to his attention. Rupert sighed and steered the unicorn over to the side of the trail. That was another thing minstrels never mentioned.
    He quickly dismounted, and set about undoing